Passion Play: The Man Behind the Mask
by secret.arcade
Summary: Theres more than one masked man in Europe. Erik-The Phantom & Lorenzo-The Masked Death but what happens when Lorenzo moves into the Opera? Does it take another masked man for Christine to realize Erik's true beauty? FULL SUMMARY INSIDE  action starts ch4
1. CH 1: The Beginning of the End

**This is my first fan fiction in five years. I remember beginning to write it, but just never finished it. I believe it's an interesting idea, so I'd like to take a shot at it. Reviews are very much appreciated. Good or bad, constructive criticism, cool ideas, thoughts, opinions, your favorite color, anything. But please let me know if this story seems interesting enough to hold your attention. I've got the whole thing mapped out in my mind, and it's quite a ride. The beginning may be a wee bit slow, but trust me the action kicks in very soon. Thanks for reading.**

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**SUMMARY:** There is more than one masked man in Europe, and there is no doubt that their lives would intertwine. Bonaventure Lorenz (Lorenzo) DeMarco died in a fire along with the rest of his family when he was thirteen years old, at least that's what the Italian police reports claimed, but the people of Venice know better than to believe that. Bonaventure Lorenz (Lorenzo) DeMarco is far from dead, by Venetian locals he is known as The Mascherati Morte; The Masked Death. Prisoner to memory and an unquenchable thirst for revenge he is sworn to a life of murder; haunting the canals and alleys of Venice. Secretly he dreams of Paris and fulfilling his passion in music, granting his freedom. All of this becomes a possibility nearly ten years after the fire when he receives a life changing letter from the Paris Opera, inviting him a chance to live a new life through his musical talents. But on the night of his arrival he mistakenly makes his way to the stage during the finale of Don Juan Triumphant and is then hurled into a dark world full of music, passion, forbidden love, and the lives of the most well known people of the Opera. The more Lorenzo surrenders his himself to music the more he changes the lives of those who surround him, and undeniably morphing the infamous love triangle into a square. But how long can Lorenzo manage to keep his past a secret? Things get dangerous when The Phantom of the Opera learns of Lorenzo's talents and decides to use him for the ultimate vengeance, but things get beyond deadly when The Mascherati Morte becomes aware of the Phantom's plan.

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**CHAPTER ONE: The Beginning of the End**

**(Lorenzo's POV)**

The Venetian moon was set high in the sky tonight, perhaps to shed some light on my crime for someone to see, someone to catch me. I laughed at myself; no one ever has or ever will catch me. Today was a Sunday; no one would be out in the streets or canals with the exception of drunken men settled outside of bars. I made haste to the dock where the gondola I had stolen earlier still waited. I was a bit disappointed; I expected my last crime in Venice to be more of a challenge. I had just stolen the most valuable artifact in all of Italy and there wasn't even a chase to emphasize it. I jumped into the gondola and grabbed the pole and made my way down the canal. As I rowed the gondola all I could think about the argument I had with Vincenzo a couple days ago.

Vincenzo was the only consistent thing in this cursed life of mine and had taken me in like a son. He was the only one who knew of my true identity, and that Bonaventure Lorenz DeMarco wasn't dead but was very much alive. He knew I survived the fire, for it was him who put out the flames on my flesh and tended to my wounds until I had healed. That was nine years ago. When my health had been completely restored I was not the same thirteen year old boy, the devil had raged inside of me, I sought out to destroy my stepfather, Cosentino Guidicelli, along with the rest of his despicable family for everything they've done; the murder of my mother and my sister was a sin I could never forgive or dare forget.

Gorged with hatred, I had fashioned the most unforgiving mask Venice would ever know and took out my adolescent revenge on Cosentino's family. Vincenzo never once spoke against my murderous behavior as the years went by, but now nine years later with my stepfather's family being nearly on the verge of extinction he finally spoke of the Mascherati Morte and asked why the mask continues to reign over Venice if its reason for existing had ceased. I was completely outraged and shocked. He never spoke of Mascherati Morte with me, and I had yelled at him for assuming he knew my life and that he knew nothing of Mascherati Morte. A sick feeling of guilt filled inside of my stomach. Mascherati Morte wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for Vincenzo; if the old man was smart he would've let me die in those flames.

The fight with Vincenzo had bothered me, but what bothered me more was that he was right. Here I was, almost a decade later, stealing because I was bored. I had had always stole as a boy but only for essential things like food or clothes. But now here I was; stealing because I had nothing to challenge me! The thought disgusted me so much. I swore this robbery to be the last unintelligent crime I would commit in Venice.

I finally made port to a small island; it was practically deserted with the exception of a few buildings which all belonged to one man. I grabbed the bag that was nestled in the corner of the gondola and made my way through the overgrown plants and ruins until I had finally reached a dingy looking shack. I knocked once, loud and firm.

"Salvatore." I spat with a cold and deep tone.

"Ahh, Illusione come in come in." he called through the door. Illusione was another name I was called, "Illusion" in Italian.

I opened the door to what appeared to be a rustic antique shop filled with piles of endless looking junk.

"Back here." He hissed. I followed his voice into another room. Salvatore was a man in his early sixties, but looked ten years older his age. He had long gray hair, a hooked nose, and yellowish teeth that gleamed when he grinned.

"Illusione, I hope the Gate of Eldorado isn't an illusion as well."

I reached into the sack and pulled out a crown, this crown was solid gold and encrusted with blood red rubies and sapphires, The Gate of Eldorado.

"Finally." Salvatore's eyes consumed the crown in its entire splendor, he reached for the crown.

"The lira." I pulled the crown away from him. His eyes left the crown and met my own.

"But of course." He muttered. He reached for a bag on a shelf located behind him and held it up in the air.

"Thirty-five thousand lira, as we agreed." He sneered.

"I said forty-five thousand lira." This man was going to try and trick me?

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said forty-five thousand." My patience was running thin.

"Illusione, forty-five thousand is out-"

"No, Signor Salvatore, what is outrageous is that you take me for a fool! What kind of imbecile do you think I am to not know there is only twenty thousand lira in that bag? You so much as dare to deceive Mascherati Morte!" my voice boomed with immense power. Salvatore's expression immediately changed to fear, but then grew dark.

"I shall give the amount you ask. Forgive me Sirena di Morte." He disappeared into another room.

Sirena di Morte, yet another name given to me, it was Italian for "Siren of Death" my vocal chords had the ability to mimic others and master octaves unlike anyone else's. He returned into the room with a briefcase and opened it for my own eyes to see, and surely enough was all the money.

"Forty-five thousand." He muttered, closing the briefcase and handing it to me.

"Well done." I shoved the crown into his feeble hands and began to leave.

"Illusione! I have another request for you if you would so kindly like to be of my services again next week."

I stopped in the doorway.

"I shall try and see if I have time for you." That would be the last thing I ever said to Salvatore, and I made my way out.

After twenty minutes of rowing I was finally at St. Marks Square. It had to be at least three in the morning. I walked through a collection of abandoned alleys. Vincenzo owned a small restaurant and lived on the second floor of the building. After he had saved me from the fire he offered the third floor to me. As much as I hated to accept anything from Vincenzo I did sleep there around three or four nights of the week, otherwise I would find refuge amongst some abandoned building. I had locations known only to me on each of the islands that made up Venice that I used for my benefit, but tonight I decided to go to Vincenzo's.

I reached the restaurant and quietly walked in locking the door behind me. I made my way up the two flights of stairs and into my room. Everything was exactly how I had left it, as usual. I opened the closet door then knelt down and carefully lifted two loose floorboards. I was able to slip the briefcase through the space in the floor and then finally I took off my mask and lowered it into the hole before closing it back up. I didn't realize how tired I was until I stood back up. After I had changed into my night clothes I collapsed on my bed, only to feel something crumble between my torso and the mattress. Confused I reached from under my chest and fished out what appeared to be a letter. Vincenzo must've left it on my bed.

I hardly ever got mail. In the nine years I lived with Vincenzo I had gotten two letters; this one included. The other letter was from a girl from when I was fifteen and she had come to the restaurant almost every day just to see me. I never spoke to her unless it was needed. Oblivious as I was to the fact that she liked me, she had sent me a letter professing her affections towards me. Of course I denied her, who could love a murderer? And how could I love when there was so much going on in my life? But this letter in my hands could only mean one thing. I hurriedly lit a candle to read my letter. It was definitely addressed to me; at least a public name Vincenzo had given me when I had come live with him to keep my identity safe behind. When I read the return address my lungs froze unable to breathe.

**Vicomte Raoul DeChangey**

Opera Populaire

Paris, France

** Lorenzo Trentacosta**

95-105 Vincenzo's Cucina

Venice, Italy

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**Short chapter, but only because I want to know what your thoughts are on the story and if it seems interesting enough to continue. The next chapter is in Christine's POV. And just a heads up for reviewers, please don't butcher me on my grammar, I know it's horrible. I'm not aspiring to be an author or writer of any kind, I just have an overpowering imagination and just need to write it out somehow. So do review and tell me what you think, but I already know my grammar = poop. Thank you!**


	2. CH 2: Buried Information

CHAPTER 2: Buried Information

(Christine's POV)

_"...grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,_

_the courage to change the things I can,_

_and the wisdom to know the difference..."_

There were only two days until the opening of Don Juan Triumphant. This fact kept repeating itself in my head. The rehearsals made me sick. Every word, every line, every note was all centered on me. I wasn't even contributing a character to this production- the whole production had been molded around me because He wrote it, everything. Each rehearsal I sang his melodies, and as if those weren't enough then the words would bring the emotions I had tried to repress all the more real. I stared into space as Piangi belt a verse towards me, my mind too distracted to respond.

"Christine!"

I snapped back to reality.

"Wha- yes?" it was getting so hard to concentrate.

The conductor just shook his head.

"Alright everyone take an hour's break. That is everyone except for the male dancers; Madame Giry wishes to go over a few things with you. One hour everyone! This is Hell Week for heaven's sake." The conductor announced.

Everyone dispersed. I stood still on stage unsure of where to go. I slowly walked to the middle of the bridge that was part of the set for Don Juan Triumphant. I stared at the empty audience. Two days I would be on this bridge, and as soon as I walked to the center of this bridge in Past the Point of No Return it would be the cue for the soldiers to shoot. Oh God- I sank to my knees holding on to the railing, I felt so sick. I looked up at box five. Could I do this? Could I betray this man who made my voice and spirit soar? Why me? Why did Raoul come back? Why did Erik have to pick me? So many questions, scenarios, and doubts began to flood my mind. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to make sense of my thoughts.

"Christine."

My body stiffened. I glanced to see who it was; it was Madame Giry to my relief. She knelt down next to me and placed a loving arm around my shoulder.

"Christine you need to pull yourself together." She spoke in a motherly sort of voice. "This after all was your decision."

This made me look up at her.

"My decision?"

"Did you or did you not agree to help Raoul with his plan?"

"Yes- but no! He planned it not me! I- I'm just in the show. I was going to be in it to begin with" I managed to get out through my shallow breaths.

"You didn't want to be in it until Raoul insisted."

So much guilt washed through me. Wait, why didn't Madame Giry talk like this was a good idea to lead the Phantom to his death? As if she dared to even consider another option? She knew nothing of Erik, did she?

"I don't know what to do." I admitted.

"Well you're far into it now. The show is in four days, I was hoping you'd be indecisive about this matter months ago."

"Do you not want the Phantom to die Madame Giry?" why did she talk like she wanted Erik alive?

"No, it is not in my interest that the Opera Ghost should die. I have lived here many years before he arrived and have grown accustomed to his being here."

"Accustomed to murder?" I tried to argue. We both stood up, she wiped away what was left of the tears on my face with the back of her hand.

"My dear, for as long as we've known the Phantom to reside here when did these murders start to occur?"

Was this a joke? People were killed by him! But as her question sank in I could feel the answer reach its way to my mouth, though I desperately tried to keep it unspoken.

"The murders started when Raoul- oh no, this isn't fair, how could you suggest that Raoul's arrival caused this man to kill?" I didn't know if I was arguing with Madame Giry or myself at this point.

"I am just stating what I have observed. We were fine before the new managers or the new patron arrived, were we not?"

I couldn't even speak. She was right, and it was wrong for me to believe she was right! But I would never admit it.

"Come Christine. You need to rest yourself. I will tell them you don't feel well."

I nodded and followed her down the stairs and off the stage. Meg spotted me and came to my side while her mother went off to find the conductor to tell him I was opting out for the rest of tonight's rehearsal.

"Christine are you alright?"

"For now I am, Meg." I hardly sounded convincing. "I'm going to bed."

"Be careful." she squeezed my hand and ran off somewhere back stage.

I made my way to the dressing room to change. I always changed in the far back corner, I was never as comfortable as the other girls were. As I started to change I could smell cigarette smoke and knew some of the dance girls were making their way into the dressing room. My pace quickened, I wanted to leave.

"Oh I'm the Phantom of the Opera! I can kill a fat stage hand but not Viscount prince charming!" one of the girls mocked.

"Oh Sherri you best not make fun or you might as well be next!" responded one of the girls. They all were laughing, why did I have to be here now?

"Please Priscilla; I doubt the Phantom would rid of me. I hear he likes pretty girls doesn't he Cynthia?" Sherri asked cackling at her own dry humor.

"Only one pretty girl." Cynthia stated.

"Who? Miss Daae?" Priscilla asked.

"Why does it matter? She doesn't want him; she'd rather the Viscount!" spat Sherri.

"The Viscount is rich! I don't blame the girl." Cynthia laughed.

"But he looks so dreary and plain, and from what I saw at the Masquerade that Phantom is one smoldering man." Sherri breathed in a sensual voice.

"Who kills!" Priscilla exclaimed.

"Which brings us back to square one-" Cynthia remembered.

"Yes, he killed Buquet, who if you don't remember raped Francesca!" Sherri.

"What? Whose Francesca?" Priscilla probed.

"She's the mute dancer." Cynthia answered.

"And she wasn't mute until that pig raped her." Sherri finshed.

"Well then how do you know she was raped if she's mute?" Priscilla asked.

"We overheard Buquet telling his friends at a cast party for Il Muto that they were secretly seeing each other." Cynthia explained.

"Yes, but if that were the case then why would poor Francesca feel the need to go mute?" Sherri rhetorically asked.

"God, he's a hero then." Priscilla said.

"Eh, I like the Viscount." Cynthia repeated.

"You like his money, and you call me a slut." Sherri laughed.

"At least I'd make a profit." Cynthia jokingly argued.

"Wait so is that why the Phantom killed Buquet?" Priscilla asked.

"Who knows, maybe. He doesn't miss thing around here." Cynthia lit another cigarette.

"But why would he kill randomly?"

"Good Lord you're full of questions! You should ask him yourself Priscilla." Sherri teased.

"No!" Priscilla shrieked.

"All you have to do is keep your hands to the level of your eyes, or whatever Giry's mantra is." Cynthia laughed.

"That makes no sense to me at all." Priscilla scoffed.

"It's so you don't get hanged." Meg answered; she had entered the dressing room.

"Oh well look who's smart." Sherri praised.

"C'mon Meg take a drag with us." Cynthia offered her cigarette.

I was just about dressed, I hung my costume and walked around to the other side of the dressing room and saw Meg, cigarette in hand, examining the cigarette.

"Oh shit." Sherri exclaimed as she saw me grab the cigarette from Meg's hand and drop it on the ground.

"Meg you don't need that kind of stuff." She just stared at me and nodded.

"Was she here the whole time?" I heard Cynthia ask after I left the dressing room. Meg followed me to the exit of the auditorium.

"Are you really okay Christine?" Meg asked again.

"I really don't know, but I'm honestly tired. I've been thinking too much. I need to put my mind to rest." It was true, I had been thinking too much, and now after hearing Sherri, Cynthia, and Priscilla I had even more to think about.

"And your voice." Meg pointed out.

I simply smiled at her.

"Yes. Good luck with the reset of rehearsal, and please don't let those other girls influence you in any way Meg."

"Thanks Christine. I won't. I'll see you tomorrow." And she ran back to the stage.

I left the auditorium and stood in the middle of the main stairway. I had an urge to light a candle for my father in the chapel, but I knew He would be there, but then again He was everywhere wasn't he? How things have changed in a course of a year. I used to wander these halls in desperate attempt to find this Angel, and now I was afraid to make one move in any direction in case he'd find me.

I slowly sank down on to one of the steps, leaning my body against the marble railing. The dispute the girls in the dressing room brought up led me to wonder the same thing; did Erik kill Buquet randomly or had he known him to be a dishonorable man? If it wasn't random then it would make Erik, as Priscilla said, a hero in some sort of way. No! I buried my face into my hands. If this was true then there was good in Erik, and now had only learnt this two days before the show, and it was too late. But murder was murder! He killed someone! No matter what horrid of a crime someone has done; to kill was a sin…oh what a hypocrite I am! Here I am aware that to kill is a sin but was contributing to an entire plan to murder the man who taught my soul to live! While everyone's view on Erik was either black or white, I was forced to see grayer shades of gray. There was no right or wrong, or bad and good, but reasons to be able to distinct the two from one another, but would I have the strength to know the difference?

What seemed like hours rolled by and soon my eyes began to close obeying my body's demand for sleep. Just before my eyes closed I could see before me a man dressed in black and a white mask covering half his face. My mind was racing; telling me to run for my life. But something in my heart ensured my body it was safe to succumb to sleep, and though I wanted to flee the sight of this very man, sleep overtook me and my mind into blackness.

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**If you are reading please review! Nothing motivates someone's imagination more than knowing they're not the only one's enjoying it. The next chapter will be in Erik's POV discussing the matter over Buquet, and him confronting Madame Giry with a request to help make the finale of Don Juan Triumphant all the more enticing. Hope you enjoy reading! Depending on the amount of reviews I will post the next two or three chapters tonight! Thank you! **

**P.S. let me know if you wish to see something! I'm always open for new ideas and could more than likely find some way to put it in my story! Hope you enjoy!**


	3. CH 3: Don Juan's Plans

**If you're reading please review, it'd be very well appreciated. It is a little slow, but the next chapter is when all the action begins. I promise the chandelier crash in the next chapter. So please read and enjoy! Thank you!**

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**CHAPTER 3: Don Juan's Plans**

_"..before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.." -ancient Chinese proverb _

**(Erik's POV)**

I watched from the rafters as Christine stood still on the bridge staring out to the vacant chairs of the auditorium. The star of my show had been lacking emotional intensity in the past weeks of rehearsal; of course it is understandable if you are acting opposite of Piangi. Carlotta's fat source of money, little did she know he indulged himself not only in food but also the brothels that were more than available in Paris. Not only was he fat, who am I to judge of outer appearances? But he lacked a severe depth of character for the part of Don Juan, affecting my Christine's performance. None of it mattered; Piangi wouldn't make it to sing Past the Point of No Return to begin with.

I watched as Christine sank to her knees and cried. Damn myself to hell for not thinking of a different plan to reveal myself to her. Madame Giry came to comfort her and I listened in on their conversation. This conversation was a perfect example for why I hold deep respect for Madame Giry; she's aware of the Phantom of the Opera's habits and doesn't question them. This is why we get along so well.

I followed Christine silently as she made her way to the dressing room, listening intently I could hear three girls; dancers I presumed when the smell of cigarette smoke reached my sense of smell. Curse them for smoking in the same room with Christine! Filling the room with revolting clouds that were harmful to my angel's lungs! I despised the three girls for their insolent talk about me until they had brought up the matter of Joseph Buquet. It was true that I knew of his unforgiveable crime forcing himself into the body of a woman, I was there to see him perform this offense when he was finished with her; Francesca. I had always hated the man for he dare mocked me, but this was enough. When he left her I had come out of the shadows and told her he would be punished for his crime. Surely the next day during Il Muto; Joseph Buquet was dead.

I didn't know how Christine would react to overhearing these girls. But then she walked out of the dressing room and to the main entrance of the Opera. She tiresomely sat down on the steps with her head in her hands. How much I wanted to reach out to her and plead for her to leave with me, to run away and live our lives purely in the essence of music. But now she wanted to run away with her cursed fiancé who had filled her thoughts of summertime. How dare he propose to what belonged to me; I would have eventually made Christine my betrothed had the Viscount never come! Impudent boy of her childhood past to come disturb the relationship between The Angel of Music and his beloved student! Slowly I walked out of the shadows and stood in her direction. After some moments she finally looked up, as tired as her face made her to be, she expressed a small look of fear just before she gave into sleep and plopped against the staircase banister.

I went and picked her up in my arms and began to carry her down a corridor. Finally reaching Madame Giry's room I went inside and set Christine on one of the two beds in the corner. As much as I wanted to take Christine with me to my lair I couldn't, Don Juan Triumphant was in two days and I had more errands to run. I did however decide to make myself comfortable and seat myself at the small wooden table opposite of the room and wait for Madame Giry to arrive. Christine stirred in her sleep as I watched her with uttermost awe, how perfect and beautiful she looked when she was asleep. She was always beautiful, but in light of recent events it had been a long time since I'd seen her in peace. To see her face in all of sleep's serenity was a breathtaking sight.

"Erik."

If I had not already been still then I was now as mobile as stone. It had been so long since I heard her speak my name, and now to hear her say it in her sleep was a feeling of longing I could barely contain. Was she dreaming of me? No, if she would flee the sight of me and run to her precious boy, my place was in her nightmares.

"Erik where are you?" she mumbled as she turned on her side unconsciously.

Again she had spoken my name! Not only did she say my name but she asked for where I was! I was taken away by this phenomenon and its entire splendor. This angel called for me in her sleep, and it was at this moment where I desperately wished I could see for myself what she was dreaming for it was of me.

_"Sleep now dear child, you mustn't worry, for I am here beside you. Dream of music, dream of beauty, give in to your senses…"_ I gently sang to the melody Angel of Music.

Her lips twitched in what seemed a small smile when she heard our old lullaby. I sighed to this reaction, I longed for her to remember me before the Viscount's arrival. Our bond was purely built upon music and love. Everything was flawless, but now I was forced to regroup and instead of making Christine into the star she deserved to be I was now too busy conjuring up plans to save our relationship.

The door handle squeaked as it turned. I looked to the doorway to see Madame Giry walk into the darkness of her room.

"Good evening Madame Giry." I made my presence known.

I heard her surprised gasp from being caught off guard. She quickly turned on a lantern and turned in my direction. She stared at me for some time before slowly putting the lantern on the center of the table and sat across from me.

"It's not safe for you to be out and about Erik." Madame Giry finally said.

"No, it isn't safe for those loons who run my opera to be out and about." I corrected.

Madame Giry's eyes wandered across the room and spotted Christine upon her bed.

"Erik what are you doing with-"

"She fell asleep on the staircase in the entrance; I couldn't bring her to the cellars for I haven't much time. Besides, I come to you in need of your assistance."

Her cat-like eyes studied my face, her expression was cautious. She then looked at Christine.

"She is sound asleep I assure you." I confirmed. After I had sung our lullaby Christine had stopped moving about the bed and her breathing became even.

"What is it you need help with?"

"The number Past the Point of No Return in Don Juan Triumphant I will replace Piangi."

"Replace or rid of him?" she raised an eyebrow.

"We shall see how I feel by that night. Nonetheless, I shall replace him."

"Is that it? The Vicomte has ordered many police, as soon as Christine is far enough away from you they'll shoot."

"I don't intend to allow Christine to be far enough away from me."

She knew there was more now.

"What else have you planned?"

"When Christine and I have finished singing the number I will take her away with me. Her precious boy will want to find her, and you will lead him into the first part of the cellars for me."

"Erik, you know I cannot help kill-"

"I will not kill him. I have other things in store for him. By the time he finds Christine with me she'll have changed her mind in front of him for me."

Madame Giry seemed suspicious but it didn't matter. She would do the deed I ask of her, because she too did not like the Vicomte and always did what I asked of her.

"How will I know when to take him to the entrance of the catacombs?"

"I will give you a signal."

"Erik your signals are always of hanged men."

"Then it would appear that I will be ridding of Piangi then after all."

Madame Giry simply pursed her lips.

"Remember the plan." I finished.

I stood up from my chair and went to the door to leave.

"Erik from what I understand it would seem that this is your final chance to win Christine, I hope you know what you're doing." Madame Giry's tone was in a strange way very motherly sounding.

I turned around to face her, then reaching into my coat I pulled out a single red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem. I placed the rose on the shelf besides the door.

"Leave that for Christine."

I left closing the door behind me.

The plan was set. Madame Giry would one day see for herself that Don Juan will be triumphant indeed. I wouldn't fail. This was the point of no return.

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**Again if you are reading please review, it would mean a great deal. The next chapter will be in Lorenzo's POV in which he opens the letter sent from Raoul to come live at the Opera Populaire, and it is also when all of the action begins. Please let me know if I should continue writing this story, I don't want to write if no one is really interested...but thank you to those of you who are!**


	4. CH 4: Past The Point of No Return

**It is in this chapter where the story really begins. Lorenzo leave Venice and arrives in Paris. He sneaks on to the stage during Don Juan Triumphant as the chandelier crashes and he is mistaken for the Phantom while blindly falling in love with the last person he should develop an attraction for. The last 3 chapters were more background information and trying to give a depth to all the characters. If you read this chapter please review and tell me what you think of the story. Thanks, enjoy. **

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**CHAPTER 4: Murderous Instinct (Past the Point of No Return)**

**Lorenzo's POV**

A year ago it was in the news all over Europe that the Opera Populaire in Paris would host a newly found program called "The Fine Arts Academy". The Fine Arts Academy was a program that was designed to benefit those who were musically talented and waiting to be discovered, you had to send in a resume of your musical or artistic ability and with either a composition or painting to prove it. Thousands of people from all over the world were eligible to apply for a slot to be one of those fifty people. If you were accepted into The Fine Arts Academy then you were invited to stay at the Opera Populaire for at least one year to make something of yourself, but the longer a student would stay the more competitive it would get because out of those fifty students it was clearly stated that only one person would be guaranteed eternal fame and glory for their talent in the arts. There was only way to get accepted and it was to have a sponsor, someone of high power who had reviewed your resume and believed that you possessed the artistic ability to excel in the program and paid for your slot to be a student. And if you were to come out on top then they too would be recognized for your achievements and be paid handsomely. However, if you were to get a slot and you failed then your sponsor would have wasted all of their money on the student. Which was why my hands trembled furiously holding this letter, because not only was it going to be the determining factor of a new life, it was from the Vicomte DeChangey; the Opera Populaire's own patron! I had applied several months ago hoping maybe someone of small importance would read my application but not the Vicomte.

I carefully opened the envelope; it was as if I had handled it too roughly the letter's contents would change. The letter read:

_**Dear Lorenzo Trentacosta,**_

_It gives me a great deal of pleasure to inform you that I have personally reviewed your application and compositions of music, and that you have been accepted into The Fine Arts Academy at the Opera Populaire. I, the Vicomte DeChangey will be your sponsor for at least one year. You will be given a room of your own at the Opera to reside in and I will pay for any supplies you require to encourage your talents thorough out the year. Though you have been accepted you are still required to do a mandatory presentation in front of the staff and mentors of The Fine Arts Academy when you arrive at the Opera Populaire. This presentation will help the FAA staff confirm your artistic ability and commitment to the program. Failure to do the presentation will result in expulsion from the academy. In the presentation you will be asked to showcase whatever main skill you listed on your application (in this case you will perform the composition of music you had sent to me in front of the staff). Once the presentation is over the members of the staff will cast their vote to confirm you as a student. Of course, due to this circumstance, if you come to the presentation and the vote is against you then I will compensate the expenses for your travel to Paris and back to Venice. But judging from what I have seen in your composition I can guarantee that you will be voted a slot and prove a prosperous student in the FFA. You must show up to present between the following dates of February 19th- February 28th otherwise you will not receive a slot. Once you arrive at the Opera Populaire make it known to reception that you have a callback for the FFA bearing my signature, I will leave them a note informing them of your arrival so when you come they will show you to my office and we can get to introduce ourselves properly. I am looking forward to meeting you soon Lorenzo Trentacosta. Have a safe journey to Paris, and best of luck._

_**Sincerely,**_

_**The Vicomte DeChangey**_

I couldn't breathe. My dreams and passions now finally had a chance to become a reality. Not only was I accepted but my sponsor was the Vicomte himself! The next best person for me to have been my sponsor would've been the king of France! But the French had no king, which was exactly my point in my own private joke. I was absolutely ecstatic. Any exhaustion I had felt before I could not feel it now. How could I sleep when the universe had just made itself available to me? Unable to contain myself or sit still I began to walk back and forth in my room with my letter in hand. I glanced at it again. The presentations were between the dates February 19th- February 28th. I went to my nightstand and dug out a small calendar. Today was February 12th. I would leave for Paris today. I grabbed a bag from under my bed and began to walk about my room collecting the things I would need to take with me. I owned very few clothes. I hardly ever went out anyways; I usually slept through the day and did my bidding at night. I returned to the floorboards of my closet and pried them open. I pulled out the brief case full of money and opened it. I took out half the amount and placed the cash into a small bag and threw it in my luggage. I slid the briefcase back into the hole of my floor when I looked down at my mask staring in my direction. Hesitantly I pulled out the mask and stared at it for quite some time.

Going to Paris would be the beginning of a new life. There would be no more Mascherati Morte, Illusione, or Sirena di Morte in Paris and there would be none in Venice. Holding this mask I could feel the heaviness of every hurt and murder I had gone through. This mask I used for Mascherati Morte was a horizontal mask; leaving my eyes, the top of my forehead, my lips and my chin visible. Half of the mask was white with black design and the other half black with gold design. I constructed this mask after the fire in my father's abandoned workshop. The most vivid memories I had of my father besides his death was running around in his store when I was four years old. He crafted masks for a living, and they were the most beautiful and elegant in all of Italy. Every Carnival the town would rush to his shop in hopes of getting a DeMarco Mask before they had all sold out. Sickness took my father away from me a week after my fifth birthday, and then my mother remarried to Cosentino Guidicelli. This recollection had caused me to reach to the top shelf of my closet and grab the other mask I owned. It was very dusty for I had never worn it as a child for it was too big. I set down the Mascherati Morte mask on my bed and gave my full attention to the dusty one. I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe the dust off. It was horizontal as well, leaving the same parts of my face visible like the Mascherati Morte's, but this mask was magnificent painted with deep red and covered in rich gold finished with the most complex and graceful of designs it seemed crafted for royalty. This mask was given to me by my father for my fifth birthday. When I had opened the present I wasn't too excited about it because he had always made masks and it was much too big when I received it, but he told me this mask was unlike any other he had created and that it wouldn't fit until I became a man with a purpose. For the first time I placed my father's mask over my face. It felt cool against my skin, and it effortlessly fit. I walked to the small mirror that hung on my wall and saw my reflection. It didn't look haunting or unforgiving, but I looked like high company, as if I was proud almost but most of all it made me look strong and fierce. I felt slightly foolish at this observation and took the mask off. I placed my father's mask into my bag and brought my attention back to the Mascherati Morte's. I picked it up and placed it back into the hole on the floor of closet and closed it shut along with all the memories attached to it.

I waited an hour after the sun to rise to get dressed. I grabbed my one piece of luggage and headed downstairs to the restaurant. There were a couple customers seated at tables drinking coffee and reading the paper. Vincenzo noticed me as I sat in an empty booth; he walked over bringing to cups of coffee with him. I handed him the letter as I helped myself to the coffee.

"So you're leaving today?" he handed the letter back to me when he finished reading.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"What do you mean?" I took another sip of my coffee.

"You, Lorenzo Trentacosta are going to Paris to pursue music….but that is the only identity you'll be known as the moment you leave this island I hope?" his voice was warm and concerned.

"Yes." I confirmed. "I want to be something to the world and contribute what I love; not be stuck in a world of hate." I confessed.

A small smile seemed to form on his lips.

"You will need these." He handed over a small journal. I opened it to find loose papers.

"What's this?"

"Identity papers with your name, background, address."

"You did this for me?"

"Years ago." He smiled as he sipped his coffee.

"Thank you Vincenzo."

"I have always wanted what's best for you."

I stood up, it was time to catch the city boat to the mainland of Italy and catch my train to Paris. I didn't reserve any tickets but I had more than enough money to buy them on the spot.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now." It felt strange how sudden this all was happening.

Vincenzo stood up and nodded.

"You will be great Lorenzo." He smiled.

"I will write you." I promised, and with that I slung my bag over my shoulder and left to begin my journey.

I was able to buy my train ticket effortlessly. The whole trip dragged on, and surely I had fell asleep. I was woken up some hours later by the train conductor saying we would arrive in Paris in three hours. I stood up to walk around the compartment I was in when I spotted a brochure on the chair in front of me. Curiously I picked it up and read:

_The Opera Populaire presents **DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT**_

_A onetime performance special February 13th at 9:00pm_

And that was it.

There was no more information. Not only have I never heard of Don Juan Triumphant but there was no composer's name or any of the leads. I realized that my train would arrive in Paris around 10pm. I would miss an hour of the performance, but surely enough they'd let me go in as long as I paid.

Three hours had dragged on and then the train had finally arrived in Paris. When I got out of the station it was snowing heavily. I made haste to a line of carriages.

"I request a ride!" I spoke over the cold wind.

"Where to?" the carriage driver asked.

"The Opera Populaire!"

"Very well."

I quickly got into the carriage and shut the door tight. It was a lot colder here than it was in Venice. I couldn't help but look out the window and marvel at all the buildings we passed on the way to the Opera. This city was truly everything I had ever imagined it to be.

"Monsieur we are here!"

I stepped out of the coach and paid the driver. I was finally at my destination. Right before me in all its grandeur was the Opera Populaire. I was finally here. I walked up the front stairs and opened the front door entrance. There was a grand staircase before me and at the top were two huge doors that obviously led to the auditorium. It was completely empty in the front. I walked up the staircase to the front doors to the auditorium. There were no receptionists or people to make sure no one went inside the main door without a ticket. I could hear the music leak though the door. How different it sounded from anything I've ever heard before! It was dark and raw. Then the loud music stopped and softly changed into another song. A woman's voice echoed through the door.

_**"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy. No dreams within her heart but dreams of love…"**_

I gasped in shock. How beautiful and perfect that voice was, how I wished I could open the front door without causing a disturbance to see who that angelic voice belonged to. Whoever the lead man was before seemed to not be in this number for a new man began to sing. I listened as this man began to sing. His voice was deep and powerful. The way he sang this song it seemed as if he had mastered every aspect of it; emotionally, musically, lyrically. It was impressive. Oh the music; this song had chilled my very skin.

**_"You have brought me to that moment where my words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence…"_**

It was her again! I began to run down the right hallway and into unknown corridors. I followed her voice at she continued to sing. I needed to be inside the auditorium. I needed to be beside her. Her voice was like morphine numbing all of my senses. I had been called Sirena di Morte, the Siren of Death, in Venice because I could sing and lure someone to me for the kill, but whoever this woman was her voice had called to me. As I ran further down the hall there was a distinct difference in the volume of music. I opened the last door on the left and found myself in the men's dressing room.

"Hey you're not supposed to be here!" someone yelled in my direction.

I looked around at the costumes and grabbed a black mask and put it on in an attempt to blend in.

_**"When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us…"**_

Oh god there was her voice again. I don't know what had overcome me but I furiously made my way through the next door. There were dancers and stagehands everywhere. I could see the stage from where I was. There she was! The girl with a voice of an angel! She was so close but yet so far, I had to get closer to her. I could barely make shape of her face.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be here!" the same voice called after me.

I looked behind to see a man trying to make his way towards me. I started walking towards the stage.

"Someone get him! He's snuck in here!"

I glanced over my shoulder to see a few more people take notice. I walked faster trying to make my way through the off stage dancers to get closer to the stage. The girl had stopped singing; it was just the man now.

"Get the man in the mask!"

More people were running after me. Then all of the sudden a series of screams came from the audience and then all around me. Someone's elbow had knocked me in the face. I fell to the ground. Everyone was screaming and running, what had happened? All hell had broke loose.

"Get the man in the mask!"

I instantly stood back up and ran out into the center of the stage away from the men chasing me only to find that there were police everywhere surrounding the stage.

"Is that him? Shoot him!"

Out of nowhere a chandelier came crashing down into the audience causing the police to scatter.

"What are you doing? Shoot the Ghost! Shoot the Ghost!"

Ghost? Why were they calling me ghost? All of the sudden a gunshot cracked followed by an excruciating pain in my left shoulder.

"I got him!"

The chandelier had started a fire which brought back the flashbacks of Cosentino setting flame to our house.

"NO!" I roared. I needed to get out of here!

I broke into a run.

"Shoot him again!"

More gunshots sounded through the Opera as I ran backstage. I found a spiral staircase and tried to run as fast as I could but my shoulder was bleeding profusely. When I got to the top of the staircase there was only one door. I went opened the door and slammed it shut behind me. I was on the roof of the Opera Populaire. There would be no way for me to jump alone.

"He's on the roof!" I could hear the police through the door.

I thought quickly. I ran behind a statue of a horse that was close to the edge of the roof. I looked over to see how far and where the drop was. Perfect; there was a small secluded alley below. I dropped my bag over the edge of the roof and watched it hit the ground. Then tore off my jacket despite how hard it was snowing and unbuckled my belt and pulled it off my pants; I would only have one shot at this.

The door crashed open, I slowly snuck a look from behind the statue and saw there were three police men; all armed with guns.

"He's got to be up here."

"Are you sure it's the Phantom?"

"He had a mask on didn't he!"

"Yes but-"

"Then we kill him on the spot!"

"Split up."

Why the hell they were calling me Phantom I had no idea, but when one of them had wandered around to my statue I quickly wrapped my belt around his throat and began to pull. He instantly dropped his gun and both of his hands went up to his throat to try and loosen the belt but I only pulled tighter.

"HE'S OVER THERE!" the two other police men had heard their comrade struggling.

I snapped his neck and dropped him dead. I quickly picked up the gun and came out from behind the statue.

"The Phantom!" but before they could point their guns at my direction I shot the both of them perfectly aiming it at their legs.

They fell to the ground and screamed in agony. I ran over to them and shot them both again but this time in their arms; another cry of pain came from them. Using the wooden end of the gun I knocked their heads hard enough to make them unconscious. I dropped the gun then went back behind the statue and dragged the dead policeman to the edge of the roof. With all of the strength I had left I pushed the corpse off of the roof holding on to the belt wrapped around his neck and followed him to the ground landing on top of his dead body.

The pain! The searing pain that overcame my body from the impact of the fall! I rolled off of the corpse and into the three inch thick snow. My shoulder began to throb in pain from all the lost blood. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. All I could do was stare up at stars in the night sky as it continued to snow. The smell of ash from the burning Opera Populaire filled my lungs, and the cold began to numb my body. I laid there for what seemed to be an eternity until I heard what sounded like footsteps. I slowly turned my head to see a man in nothing but a mere shirt and black pants at the end of the alley walking in my direction. Every instinct in my body told me to get up and run, but I couldn't. I turned my head my back to the night sky and allowed the darkness to take me.

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**The next chapter will be in Erik's POV, partly because he's the one at the end of this chapter walking through the alley and finds Lorenzo. So hopefully this was interesting to you!Please review!**


	5. CH 5: Eternal Masquerade

**I noticed the number of people reading the story and I just want to say thanks so much for reading because it really does mean a great deal to me. I had five years of this story dancing in the back of my mind and it feels really good to finally write it out. This chapter is a little slow placed, but that's partly cause Erik just got his heart broken and ditched during Down Once More, and Lorenzo is kind of just a bleeding frozen guy...but though it may seem like there's not much action going on I should hint to you that there's a lot of information Erik is collecting about Lorenzo already, and he hasn't even met Erik yet. Enjoy reading! **

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**CHAPTER 5: Eternal Masquerade **

**Erik's POV**

"I gave you my mind blindly."

There would be no way for her to switch this around. She wasn't the victim; I was. A victim of God's torturous ways to bestow such a face on a man, a victim of loneliness, a victim to endless despair; I was the victim; not Christine.

"You try my patience. Make your choice." I tugged on the rope causing the Vicomte to choke just to prove how serious I was. I know she would refuse me. This was all part of the plan. She would refuse me and I would kill her precious Raoul and then who else would she have but me? In time she would forget about him and learn to love me. I waited for her answer.

_**"Pitiful creature of darkness what kind of life have you known? God gave me courage to show you; you are not alone…"**_

I was not prepared for what happened. She placed her hand on my shoulder and pressed her lips against mine. She then parted her lips and her tongue entered my mouth. The sensation! I could barely kiss her back in disbelief this was happening to me. How could I deserve this kiss? She pulled away slowly and her eyes studied my face for a reaction, and she came back for another kiss. This time it was deep and my tongue indulged itself gliding smoothly across hers as we explored each other's mouths. Oh the taste of her salvia was never what I dreamt it to be; it was a thousand times better. The sweetest flavor this earth would ever hold in all of its existence and here I was in pure ecstasy of it. Her left hand slid up from my shoulder and cupped the right side of my face; the deformed side! And she kept it there as we continued the kiss! This kiss was the crescendo of my life; here below the earth in the darkness she was the music in my never ending night. She finally pulled away and waited for me to respond.

As I looked into the eyes of my angel as I began to cry. She had melted my heart and then shattered it to pieces with that kiss. It was at that moment I truly felt that I had possessed the heart of a monster. No longer was it just my face, as Christine said moments earlier it was my soul where the true distortion was. I would forever be a selfish creature by forcing Christine to love me. If Christine were to live with me after this it would only be because I had to cheat my way into her heart, and not because she loved me. She had given the kiss of a lifetime to a monster, and I wanted to prove that my soul didn't equal the horror of my face. There was only one way for her to truly see whatever scrap of beauty that resided within me…

"Take her. Forget me. Forget all of this. Forget what you've seen." It was done. We were done. Everything I had worked for this girl was over. "Go now. Don't let them find you. Take the boat. Swear to me never to tell the secret you know of the angel in hell! Go now! Go now and leave me!"

That image of her embracing him the moment he was free of the ropes cut me deep! And all the sadness and pain I had ever felt in my life had followed me up to this moment. I ignored the mob's cries from above as I sang along with my music box.

_**"Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you…"**_

My life was a never ending Masquerade, no one wanted to find me. Christine had walked up to me. A thousand times I wanted to plead for her to never leave me alone, a thousand songs I wanted to dedicate and sing to her, but I instead I settled for the words I have always felt and the words I should've said so many years ago

_**"Christine, I love you…"**_

Without saying a word she placed the wedding ring back into my hand then walked away. Then it was complete. I had experienced every pain known to humanity. I kept my eyes on her until she was out of view.

_**"You alone can make my song take flight. It's over now the music of the night!"**_

I began to break the mirrors out of frustration until I broke through the one that was another passage about the underground of the Opera. I walked down the dark passageway until I had reached the end where there was a ladder leading up to a sewer cover. I climbed up the ladder and pushed the sewer top off the ground and pulled myself up into the snow. I slid the lid back to its place on the ground and began to walk down the alley then saw two figures motionless on the ground. I stood above them trying to make sense of what could've happened. One man was a policeman who was clearly dead because he had a belt strapped around his neck and there were a few bones that had popped way through his skin. The other man soaked all the snow around him in blood, there was a gunshot wound in his shoulder, but what struck me was that he wore a black mask that was identical to the one I wore in Don Juan Triumphant. I don't know what compelled me to do so but I kneeled down next to the masked man and checked for a pulse; he was still alive.

"Erik!"

My head snapped up to see Madame Giry walking towards me from the opposite end of the alley. Her eyes grew wide as she tried to analyze the meaning of two bloody bodies in my presence. She then looked back at me.

"It wasn't me if that's what you were thinking." I coldly spat.

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know but this one's alive." I pointed to the man in the mask.

"Oh no-"she quickly knelt down on the other side of him. "The police mistook him for you and shot him."

"How is that possible?"

"He snuck through the men's dressing room and grabbed one of Piangi's Don Juan masks to blend in, I watched the men chase him onto the stage and the police had thought he was you."

I felt a small twinge of guilt, but he was still alive and he needed help. I scanned the ground around us till my eyes fell on a bag.

"Check that bag. Maybe he has some identity." I ordered. I ripped the left sleeve of my shirt off and tied it tightly around his gunshot wound to maintain pressure while Madame GIry searched the bag. She pulled out a small black journal when a couple loose papers fell out.

"His pulse is slowing." I stated.

"Erik you must carry him, I have a carriage waiting for us. We have to get you out of here; we will find him help as we make our way to my house."

I picked him up and followed Madame Giry to the end of the alley where the carriage was waiting. When I entered the carriage I saw Meg was sitting inside leaning against the window. Madame Giry shut the compartment door and told the driver to go.

"Maman, is that the man who sneaked into the theatre? Is he going to be okay?" Meg asked.

"Yes it is, and we don't know. We're trying to figure out who he is." She answered.

I caught Meg gawking at my face; I then realized I hadn't been wearing a mask since Christine tore it off on stage. This bothered me immensely so I took the mask off of the unconscious man and shoved it on my face.

"Better?" I shot at Meg. She instantly looked down at her feet but then looked but then looked back up in surprise.

"Maman he looks so young!" Meg said.

I looked to the left at the unconscious figure and Meg was right; he looked very young. It was hard to tell with the mask on.

"His name is Lorenzo Trentacosta." Madame Giry spoke loudly. "He was invited to live at the Opera for a year…"

"By whom?"

"The Vicomte." She held out a letter I presumed that she had found in his belongings.

As she said this I grew puzzled. Why would the Vicomte invite someone who assumingly kills cops to live at the Opera? I took the letter into my own hands and read the contents. After reading it I was ever so intrigued.

"I didn't think those two idiot managers would continue that program for the following year." I stated.

Madame Giry nodded in agreement while Meg continued to stare at Lorenzo.

"Erik when I came to get you I saw that they successfully put out the fire, and even though Monsieur Firmin has quit as manager Andre still remains…"

I slowly began to realize what Madame Giry was getting at.

"No…"

"Yes Erik, if Andre still remains as manager and these letters to students were sent the Opera Populaire must keep running."

Damnit! I was furious. I had planned tonight to be my last night in the cellars, I had planned for the Opera to be deserted and left in peace, but no! It was still going to be in use, and there would be absolutely no way that if I wasn't there then people would be allowed to roam free amongst the halls mocking the memory of The Phantom of the Opera. I would have to return, along with…

"The Viscount…does this mean that they have to stay?" I asked Madame Giry so she could tell me 'no' I needed to hear that possibility.

"I do not think the Viscount will leave after sponsoring a talent, and if Andre stays then there's a good chance he will too." She admitted.

"You mean the both of them." I gritted through my teeth.

"Yes…Erik I really am sorry."

"I don't want your pity." I was beyond irritated. I was prepared to never see Christine again and now here all of us are still potentially stuck in Paris! "What of Monsieur Trentacoasta?" I asked bringing back the attention of his health.

"We are almost at my home. Erik at least stay for one night, shower and put on something more decent for the weather. There should be some spare clothes from my husband's room. I will continue to the Viscount's home with Meg and leave Lorenzo there. Monsieur DeChangey is his sponsor anyway. His health would be in far better care in their hands rather ours."

"So Monsieur Trentacoasta is a composer then?" I remembered reading that part in the letter. There would be fifty new talents at the Opera now. I intended to watch the presentation call backs and be the true judge of talent.

The carriage finally arrived to Madame Giry's abode. I got out of the carriage.

"Wait-"I held the door open before they took off. "Lorenzo, is he going to be living at the Viscount's for now?"

"I would think so for now. The Opera is under reconstruction for awhile." Her tone seemed to imply it was my fault for the inconvenience, though it very much was.

"Fine." I slammed the door and the carriage took off.

Everyone seemed to be going to the Vicomte's house, and I knew with every fiber in my heart that Christine would be there. I cursed angrily up at the sky. I cursed the stars for determining my fate, I cursed myself for not having control of my own fate, and then I cursed God's green earth for things to come in the future for I knew it would be one know no one could tell.

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**The next chapter will be in Christine's POV because Madame Giry arrives with Lorenzo at Raoul's house and things get pretty sketchy between people. Christine (being the little snoopster and indecisive girl that she is) doesn't leave Lorenzo alone at all, and yeah you can imagine how that could go. Please review, much appreciated. I'm open to new ideas, this story is really flexible so if you want to see something or add something to the story just let me know and I'll fit it in the best way I can. Once again thank you so much for reading. Means a lot.**


	6. CH 6: Prying Pandora

**Ahhh...will Christine ever learn what best for her or not? Well I actually wanted to give a personal thanks to Kuroneko13, as long as I know that one person enjoys reading then it's more than enough for me to keep writing, so thank you for your kind reviews because they really do mean a lot.**

** BEWARE! As much as I hate cliffhangers I had to put one in this chapter...I plead guilty haha. I must also tell you to pay close attention to Madame Giry because she's a very sketchy character in this whole story, (spoiler) including Meg. Enjoy reading!**

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**CHAPTER 6: Prying Pandora**

_"Let the key guns be mounted,_

_make a brave show of waging war,_

_and pry off the lid of Pandora's box,_

_once more..." -Amy Lowell_

**Christine's POV**

I sat in Raoul's living room with a full cup of tea in hand. I took not a sip from it. I was spacing out in deep thought of Erik. It had been no more than two hours since we left the cellars of the opera house. All I could think about was if Erik was still there. Did the mob find him? Was he dead? Where was he now? Was it really over? Ever since Raoul and I had gotten to his house he hadn't sat down at all. He was running back and forth through his mansion ordering servants to organize his belongings and to start packing.

"Raoul." I called for him. I could hear him ruffling through papers in his office which was the next room over.

"Christine I'm quite busy at the moment, but you should sleep because we've a long journey ahead tomorrow."

"Journey?" I placed the cup of tea one of his servants had given to me down on the table and walked into his office and saw that he didn't even change out of his wet shirt yet and it was stained in blood.

"Yes Christine. We are leaving to England tomorrow. We're getting away from this place." He said without even looking up at me.

"But-"

"But what?" he interjected. "Christine you saw the opera house when we left. It was in flames!"

"But my things-"

"I'll buy you new things, lots of things." He was searching through his drawers pulling out papers and throwing them into folders. Papers of business I presumed.

I was getting frustrated. I had only lived two places my entire life; with my father and the Opera Populaire. Other than that I had known no other land, and of course I wanted to travel but not like this.

"So we're leaving then..." I spoke aloud but tried to tell it to myself. Raoul finally stopped what he was doing and looked up at me to answer.

"Yes Christine. We are leaving, and we are never coming back."

His statement bothered me and it must've shown because he walked over to me and took my face into his hands.

"Christine there's nothing left here for you anymore. I am with you and that is all that matters." He pressed a soft kiss on my lips and then I instantly backed away from him. My rejection had left a look of hurt and confusion on his face.

I didn't mean to back away from Raoul's kiss but it was almost like reflex. The last person who I had kissed me was Erik, and I wanted…no I didn't want it. I couldn't think like this. It was silly for me to want Erik's taste linger on my lips. I had to shove these thoughts to the back of my mind. I made my choice two hours ago and now I had to stay true to it.

"Christine why did you-"

"Excuse me Vicomte." One of Raoul's servants knocked on the office door.

"Yes come in." Raoul sighed.

A short woman with light brown hair came into the room and curtseyed, I don't think I was going to get used to this sort of respect.

"I apologize for interrupting but Madame Giry is here. She requests your help."

"Did she come alone?" I had hoped Meg was with her. I wanted to say goodbye to my only friend if this was my last night in Paris.

"A young blonde woman and an injured man accompany her."

Thank God Meg was safe from the fire.

"What man?" Raoul was now alarmed.

"I do not know sir, but Madame Giry says he has ties with you and that you are to help him."

"Very well."

I followed Raoul to the waiting room in the front of the mansion where Madame Giry stood with Meg next to her.

"Christine! You're okay!" she ran up and gave me a hug. I hugged her in return glad she too was safe.

"Yes I'm fine." I assured her, at least everything but my heart was.

"Who is that?" Raoul pointed at the unconscious man sprawled on his couch. He was completely soaked and his entire left sleeve was stained in blood.

"Lorenzo Trentacosta." Madame GIry answered him.

I was beyond confused. Never had I heard of this name before but when I looked at Raoul his expression had turned into something of grief and dread.

"Who is he?" I asked. Why did everyone know who he was and not me?

"He's from Italy. He applied to the Fine Arts Academy the Opera Populaire agreed to host this year." He answered.

I was still confused on why this man had anything to do with us.

"You cannot leave Monsieur. You have sponsored him and now he is here and injured on your behalf." Madame Giry said.

"But the Opera-"

"The opera house has not burnt down. Monsieur Firmin has quit but Andre remains which means that you cannot leave because of your contract with the managers of being the patron for the Opera Populaire and your contract with The Fine Arts Academy that binds you to this young man."

"But- but the stage! The chandelier Andre couldn't possibly-"

"It's being repaired starting tomorrow. By the time it's done the students will be able to use it for their operas."

Raoul was processing all of this information. Until he finally called for one of his servants to the room.

"Please take Monsieur Trentacosta to one of the guest rooms . He is in need of a doctor, please make contact with the nearest one you can." Raoul ordered.

"Yes sir." I shivered as I saw blood dripping from his body as three servants carried him away.

"So Andre is going to continue The Fine Arts Program?" Raoul asked.

"Yes. I assume all the students will be here for their callbacks in five days." Madame GIry answered.

"Very well." He muttered.

"Wait- we're staying?" I looked up at Raoul waiting for an answer.

"It would appear so." He replied.

"Why? Because you sponsored him? What's the Fine Arts Academy?" I couldn't believe we were staying…especially after what had just happened. What if I saw Erik again? I shivered to think of what the encounter would be like.

"The Fine Arts Academy only accepts fifty people to be given the chance to improve their artistic or musical ability. Out of all fifty students only one of them will be given publicity by the Opera Populaire to become the newest sensation. You're only accepted if you have a sponsor and I sponsored Lorezno."

"Why did you sponsor him?" I was a little irritated that I didn't know anything about this.

"It was suggested that the patron of the Populaire should sponsor at least one applicant, so I did."

"Then why-"

"Christine there will be more time to explain everything, but the Vicomte is needed at the opera house right now…Andre has business affairs and insurance matters to discuss with you." Madame Giry was stern.

"But of course." Raoul sighed. "Madame Giry could Christine possibly stay at your house tonight? I don't want her to be alone."

I was confused as to why Meg's eyes grew wide at Raoul's request.

"I'm sorry but my house is very small and you have many people here already. I'm sure Christine will be fine dear Vicomte. Am I right Christine?"

I nodded at Madame Giry. Raoul went to get dressed and came back down to the waiting room when he was ready to leave.

"Shall we go then?" He asked Madame Giry.

"I will be there later. If you don't mind taking Meg with you could you? I would like to stay here and wait for the doctor, I saw how Monsieur Trentacosta was injured and would like to speak to the doctor myself."

"Very well. I'll try not to be long Christine. I love you." And with that he left with Meg to the Opera Populaire.

As soon as they left an awkward silence filled the room. I wanted to ask Madame Giry if she knew anything about Erik. Just a couple days ago I had woken up in her room and there was a red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem. She seemed to always know everything, and I wanted to ask her where Erik was. I knew she had to know. But before I could say anything the doctor had arrived. I followed Madame Giry and the doctor upstairs but when we had reached the guest room Lorenzo was in she had told me to wait outside because she had to speak to the doctor privately.

I slumped down to the floor in the hallway. There was absolutely nothing to do. The doctor finally came out of the room, he smiled at me.

"Your boyfriend is going to be alright." He said smiling at me.

"Oh…um, he's not my boyfriend monsieur." I kindly answered as I stood up from the ground.

"My apologies."

Madame Giry came out of the room and thanked the doctor as he left.

"Christine, keep Monsieur Trentacosta company will you?" she asked me.

"Oh, of course. I guess I could."

"His left arm and shoulder is broken. He's asleep now, and it would do him good to have someone there when he wakes up to tell him where he is."

"Yes Madame."

"Oh Christine…" she sighed as pulled the strands of hair in front of my face and placed them behind my ear. "Do not be foolish in love my dear." Then she left.

This statement confirmed to me that she knew of Erik, but I would ask her later.

I hesitantly went inside the guest room. There were two fireplaces and both of them were roaring. The heat was almost overwhelming. There was a chair already set by the side of the bed the man was on. I sat down next to him when I started to realize that he looked very young. He was definitely older than I was, but younger then Raoul. As I stared at him I began to notice how handsome he looked. It wasn't the type of look Raoul had. Raoul's features were very warm and charming, and this man's features were somewhat different from any other man I've seen. His face was youthful in the sense that his skin appeared flawless but his cheekbones and jaw line was very much defined. How unfair of me to compare this man I didn't even know to Raoul! But I couldn't stop...his hair was disheveled and had a dark brown color; it was long but not nearly as long as Raoul's hair. If anything it looked almost exactly like Erik's…he almost looked like he could be Erik's brother, but handsome. The more I realized this the more I couldn't look away from the sleeping figure. I couldn't deny that he was beautiful and looked like Erik...he really did.

Then something overcame me, I stood over him and gently traced his defined cheekbones with my fingers down to his neck. I paused as I remembered all the blood I had seen dripping from his body. Broken bones don't cause bleeding. Did Madame Giry lie to me? She would never, but I know what I saw! He was of course wearing a new shirt. I looked at his left shoulder and could tell there was padding. His left arm was in a sling as well. But if there was blood then there had to be a flesh wound right? It wasn't so much the wound that had interested me, but rather why Madame Giry needed to talk to the doctor alone, lie about the wound, and why did she and Meg reject my coming to their home? I felt as if I had only the border pieces to a jigsaw puzzle.

I moved my hands to his shirt and began to unbutton them, but as I undid the first couple buttons in front of my eyes I could see in the gleam of the firelight a collection of never ending scars across his chest that it looked a complete different color than the skin tone of his face. The further down his chest the more gruesome it appeared! His torso was mangled in almost every direction covered in burns and scars and whatever else that was possible.

But before I knew it the force of a strong arm and pushed me back so hard that I hit the ground and almost had the wind knocked out of me.

"HOW DARE YOU! WHAT THE HELL DO THINK YOU'RE DOING!" a voice so terrible and threatening cracked that it shook the room.

I slowly looked up to see that the man was now awake and sitting upright turned in my direction. Whatever youthful features I saw on his face before had completely disappeared because his now open and raging silver colored eyes melted them away and were now burning with hatred into mine. His shirt remained halfway unbuttoned and his hideous chest was exposed.

"Oh Erik I am sorry!" I began to cry on the floor unable to breathe.

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**Surprise! Lorenzo has a nasty looking chest! And there it is, Christine is back to square one. The next chapter will obviously be in Lorenzo's point of view. The next chapter will mainly just be Lorenzo and Christine talking...but their conversation is VERY dangerous and we all know Christine to be...I don't want to say foolish or deceitful, but maybe a synonym a little less severe. Also they talk a wee little bit about The Phantom of the Opera and it's Lorenzo's first time of hearing the story so that'll be interesting. Hope you're enjoying the story. Please review! Mahalo! **


	7. CH 7: Distorted Stories

**Everyone is just lying in this story aren't they? Well this chapter is very interesting in the fact that...well you'll see I guess. Sorry if this chapter appears long- I assure you it's most likely due to the amount of dialog hence the use for all the spacing. Reviews are awesome, you should do it...enjoy the chapter! **

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**CHAPTER 7: Distorted Stories (The Phantom of the Opera)**

_"The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves,_

_we live in denial of what we do,_

_even what we think,_

_we do this because we're afraid,_

_we fear we will not find love,_

_and when we find it we find we fear we'll lose it,_

_if we fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy..." -Richard Bach_

**Lorenzo's POV**

An ocean. I felt I was hundreds of feet underwater with the strength of the ocean crushing down on me. I was too numb to feel any pain, but then I slowly began to feel the sensation of me floating to the surface and when I was pulled into consciousness I opened my eyes to see a girl gawking above me. It took me a few seconds to realize what she was looking at for I could see the first few buttons of my shirt were open and exposing the burns and deformation of my chest. Instantaneously I pushed her away knocking her to the floor.

"HOW DARE YOU! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" I was furious! No one would ever in their right mind disrespect Mascherati Morte in such a way! No…I wasn't him anymore, but who else did I know how to be? I realized I had to train myself to get out of that mindset; the mindset I had been stuck in for nearly the past ten years.

"Oh Erik I'm so sorry!" she wailed and began to cry uncontrollably on the floor to the point where it sounded like she was hyperventilating.

Her crying made me feel uneasy; it wasn't exactly the reaction I expected. It almost sounded a little pathetic. At first I thought she cried because of how horrid my chest look, but then she had called me Erik and then started to cry. I felt bad for pushing her to the floor.

"You French people have a really hard time getting your identities strait." I muttered. So far I had been called 'Ghost', 'Phantom', and 'Erik'. It was getting beyond irritating.

She looked up at me with her wet eyes. Annoyingly I tried to prop the pillows behind me so I wasn't laying flat on my back.

"W-wait, l-let me h-help you." She choked as she got up.

"I wouldn't want my disfigurement to cause you sore eyes." I spat at her. I was still incredibly outraged that she was just staring at my chest and it was probably her who had unbuttoned my shirt to begin with.

"N-no. I'm sorry. I didn't m-mean to…it's not b-bad at all." She was still crying as she positioned the pillows behind me so that I could sit up comfortably.

"I hardly believe that. Is that why you cry? Because of my ugly body?" I snapped at her. I tried to button my shirt back up but my left arm was in a sling. It was then when I started to pay attention to the fact that I was alive in a bed and that my wounds were cleaned.

"No! You just reminded me of someone…" She did something I didn't expect and placed her hands on the bare skin of my torso, "I'm so sorry." I felt her tears drop from her face down on my chest as she buttoned my shirt up for me. It was a feeling I had never felt before. It was very strange. I would've never guessed it, but her moisture trickling down my body felt good…beautiful even.

"Erik." I affirmed.

She sat down on the chair next to the bed…my bed? She nodded and placed her head in her hands as she wiped what was left of her tears away.

"Where am I?" I softened my tone. I felt horrible because now it was apparent to me that this young woman had been watching over me, and she wasn't scared of my scathed body…instead it reminded her of someone; Erik.

"You're at Raoul's house."

"I'm sorry…"

"Oh, excuse me…you're at the Vicomte DeChangey's home." She corrected.

"What? How did I get here?" I was in my sponsor's house and how? Oh no…did they know I murdered the policeman and left two injured? Or did they know that I snuck into the opera? Surely I would be expelled if they ever knew!

"A friend of ours brought you here. She knew Raoul sponsored you so she brought you here."

This was strange. How did she know the Vicomte had sponsored me? Did she find me next to that cop I murdered and tell the Vicomte about it? But if she did then why was I here? I needed to get answers out of this girl. I noticed that she said 'A friend of _ours…'_

"Who found me?"

"Madame Giry, she is the ballet teacher at the Opera Populaire. Is that where you were when you broke your arm?"

My arm wasn't broken. I had been shot; whoever had found me had obviously covered up for me for some unknown reason.

"I guess that makes sense."

"That makes sense?" she repeated my answer as a question, I think it meant to explain to her further what I meant.

"It makes sense that she found me unconscious if she works at the Opera Populaire since I blacked out from the fire." I wasn't going to say I was shot. I couldn't afford to be expelled. I needed to stay here in Paris.

"You lost a lot of blood." She said. Damn her! If Pandora had a younger sister it would surely be this girl.

"I must've been cut by something while trying to run out of the opera house and didn't notice. I can't really remember what happened." I was lying in the dark. I needed to meet this Madame Giry who found me and see what her business in covering up for me was.

"Oh, I was just wondering. You looked really hurt."

I looked at her when she said this because I could hear the genuine concern in her tone. This was when I realized how beautiful she was; her long curly brown hair complemented her soft brown doe-like eyes. Her face was delicate and held a romantic look to it. She looked like an angel. This was also when I realized that this was physically the closest I had ever been to a girl my whole life; not counting those who were related to Cosentino…I shivered as I remembered being a mindless thirteen year old. I had killed women before. It wasn't as if any of the women related to Cosentino were decent people, but the memory had disturbed me. This observation upset me deeply. Was I too busy killing people that I didn't even have the room for finding someone to love a priority? But I did find love. Maybe it wasn't love; but whoever that singer was from Don Juan Triumphant had caught my heart with her voice and I needed to find her. I spoke the two words I never had said to anyone in my life.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry that I pushed you. I shouldn't have done that." If I needed to change my attitude I had to start somewhere. I decided to start with this girl.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have unbuttoned your shirt. I should know these things by now."

The way she spoke sometimes confused me, I disregarded the strange response.

"What is your name?"

"Christine." She gave a half smile. "And you're Lorenzo Trentacosta?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"It's nice to meet you Signore Trentacosta."

It was so strange to hear my new name! It made me almost smile that she used the Italian way of addressing a man.

"I must not be that much older than you, please just call me Lorenzo. I liked being called by my first name." Though it had been years since I had been called just Lorenzo; my mother and sister called me Lorenzo. Everyone else called me Bonaventure until after the fire.

"Lorenzo." She smiled again, but in her smile I could tell it was broken.

"Do you work here? I noticed that you call him Raoul…"

"Oh, well he's my fiancé." She admitted.

For some reason I felt a slight sinking feeling in my chest. What a strange feeling…

"How old are you Christine?" I didn't enjoy conversation, partly because I hardly ever had to have them with anyone other than Vincenzo, but I liked the sound of Christine's voice. In a way it was calming.

"I'm eighteen. How old are you?"

She was only four years younger than me.

"Twenty-two."

"You look a lot older when you're awake."

"Do I really?" I wasn't one to judge social skills, but she was very strange and said the oddest things.

"Yes. It's your eyes. When you're asleep you look more your age."

"And I look old to you now?"

"Well, not really old…early thirties at the maximum."

"Interesting." What else could I say to such an observation? I changed the topic. "Do you work at the Opera Populaire?"

"Yes, I've lived there for many years."

"Well, what do you do?"

"I'm a chorus girl; mostly." She added at the end.

"Mostly?"

"Sometimes I'm given bigger roles…but rarely."

"Do you sing?"

"And dance."

"Impressive."

"What is it that you do?" she asked me.

It all seemed so bizarre to talk to someone in the way we were. Getting to know someone, but why? For the sake of sound? Would silence be too unsettling?

"I compose music; mostly."

"Mostly?" she gave a small smile when she realized I was mocking her.

"Sometimes I do other things."

"Like?"

Kill people and steal things.

"Paint. I like to paint though I hardly get the time to."

"Impressive." She mocked again.

I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"I would like to hear some of your music sometime."

"Perhaps you will one day...may I ask you something Christine? Since you've worked at the opera house for quite some time…"

She nodded.

"Who is 'The Ghost' or 'The Phantom'?"

This question appeared to have bothered her because she began to fumble with her dress; which I just noticed was a wedding dress. There were things to Christine that didn't add up; at all. But I tried to look past it desperate to keep conversation.

"Do people in Italy know of The Phantom?"

I slowly shook my head. In a way I was relieved at this fact because surely if I had no idea who The Phantom was then there would be no one in France who knew of Mascherati Morte. The way she said 'The Phantom' seemed to imply that he was a well known figure…that the police want to kill hence them shooting me.

"The Opera Ghost is a man who is rumored to live in the opera house."

"I thought his name was The Phantom."

"He's known as The Opera Ghost and The Phantom of the Opera."

"But obviously it's not a rumor if there were people screaming his name tonight."

She let out a shaky breath.

"It would seem so."

"Why did the police want to kill him?"

"How do you know they wanted to kill him?"

Damn. I didn't give her enough credit for how observant she was.

"Then why else were the police there?" that seemed like a good enough question.

"I don't know…" she trailed off.

"What does The Phantom of the Opera do? What has he done? What is he like?"

"He…he believes he runs the Opera Populaire and gives out commands to the people who run the theatre and…"

"And?" I pressed on.

"He kills if his orders aren't answered."

How absurd! How could a ghostly man go about giving orders and killing if they weren't met? It was a ludicrous idea. I wasn't one to suggest the notion, but why would someone obsess over running an opera house?

"What does he look like?"

"Dark. He keeps his face covered with a mask to shield his…distorted face."

He wore a mask as well! Perhaps for a different reason but nonetheless the similarities between The Phantom of the Opera and Macherati Morte kept exposing themselves the more this topic continued. I could now fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

"He took refuge in the opera house, and hides himself there due to his deformity and murders people when those don't follow his orders…" she nodded confirming what I had said, "Where would someone like him hide?"

"The cellars. Below the opera house."

"You seem to know a lot."

"Rumors."

"Does he have an actual name?"

"No one knows it."

"Man of mystery then."

"Indeed." She simply agreed.

We talked for the remainder of the night about music and art until the sun began to rise, but by then she had fallen asleep on her chair with her head and arms resting against the mattress. A beam of rising sunlight weaved through the curtain and made way to Christine's face making her look entirely angelic. I slowly got out of my bed to completely close the curtains so the sun wouldn't wake her. I crawled back into my bed not looking away from Christine. I remembered what she had said about me looking younger when I was asleep. I laughed a little when I observed that she too looked younger asleep, perhaps it was something that applied to everyone. As beautiful and strange Christine was my heart was set on the girl who had sang on stage last night; the girl with the voice of an angel. I would find her and when I did I would never let her leave my life. Sleep took me away to dream of her.

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**I am unsure of who's POV the next chapter should be in, and for those of you paying attention; Don Juan Triumphant was on February 13th, so the next chapter will be Valentine's Day. If you would prefer the next chapter to be in someone particular's POV please tell me so in the reviews. Poor Erik alone on Valentine's :[ or Christine already sleeping in the same bed (kind of) as Lorenzo. Oh...the next time Lorenzo and Christine talk she bugs him about if he has any lovers and THAT should definitely be interesting...so hang in there! Lorenzo will be showcasing for the Fine Arts Academy Staff very soon and the Phantom will be there to judge him. Things are about to get out of control. Review review review!**


	8. CH 8: Life's A Gamble

**I'd like to thank the suggestion for doing this chapter in Raoul's POV. As much as I don't like him...at all; I realized that this chapter proved to be really important in tying the story together and definitely added another huge twist that complements the direction of this story. **

**A/N: I must point out to those of you reading that Lorenzo has only talked to Vincenzo politely for the last ten years of his life. His social skills are off, and the only times he has ever talked to anyone (besides Vincenzo) were to people like Salvatore (from chapter one) and he talked to them as the Mascherati Morte. Like Erik he has a hard time saying what he needs to say and isn't used to being out in public during the day as a normal human being. I wanted to point this out because the next chapter he will be talking with Christine a lot and their conversations are really important because they unknowingly begin lay down the formation of a love square.**

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**CHAPTER 8: Life's A Gamble**

**Raoul's POV**

I got into my carriage with Meg as we made our way to the opera house. Neither of us spoke the entire way there. I was relieved she didn't ask of what happened down in the volts of the theatre. I wouldn't even know where to begin if I was forced to have to ever tell anyone, but all that man wanted in return was for Christine and I go was to not speak of what happened down below the opera. His request suited me fine considering I would never want to speak of it again to begin with. When we arrived at the Opera Populaire the air was filled with ash. Andre saw me get out of the carriage and quickly made his way up to where Meg and I were standing.

"Vicomte! Thank God you're finally here! Please talk some sense into these people!" Andre frantically cried.

I could see he was being followed by a number of reporters wherever he walked.

"Vicomte DeChangey! Please tell us will this be the end of the Opera Populaire?"

"No, it is not. The opera house is already on its way to being prepared. I assure you there is no need for you all to be here." I had dealt with reporters before but I wished Madame Giry was here to tell them off instead. People listened to her. "Andre, could Meg and I please make our way into the opera house so we know what we're dealing with?"

Andre gestured us but as we walked towards the entrance the press followed.

"Vicomte, is it true that the chandelier came crashing down to the floor?"

"Yes."

"What about the lead woman? Is it true that she was abducted during the finale of the opera?"

"No. It was part of the act." It looked like it could have been even though it was far from it.

"What say you about The Phantom of the Opera? Man or ghost? Fact or fiction?"

"Myth." We finally closed the entrance of the front doors of the theatre behind us.

It didn't look bad at all. It was very messy in the front of the opera house due to the hundreds of people making their way to escape the fire. The real damage was in the auditorium. When we walked through the doors and saw the chandelier perched on top of the first rows of the audience, the curtains were far past salvaging along with most of the chairs on the main floor of the audience because they were burnt.

"Obviously the chandelier and ceiling are in need of work, but the stage and orchestra pit haven't been damaged." Andre spoke.

"Did the chandelier crash kill anyone?" I was so caught up in saving Christine I hadn't even given thought to all the innocent people in the audience. I could only imagine simply watching a show and then all of the sudden have a chandelier falling right in front of you.

"No, thank God. But people are claiming to have been injured and now we're facing the inconveniences of being sued!"

"Well they have every right to sue us." I sighed, "I sure would if a chandelier came crashing down on me and forced me to escape from a fire."

"What! That would take almost all of our profits from our past three productions!"

"What other choice do we have Andre? People here hurt and we must compensate them."

"How will we make money while the auditorium is under repair then!"

"I have an idea." Hopefully it was one that would work.

"Let's hope this one plays out better than your idea of having Miss Daae sing earlier." Andre coldly said.

"I didn't anticipate a chandelier crash!" I was already uncomfortable being here in the first place. Was it not only some hours ago we were all here thinking we had the Phantom in our grasp? It felt like weeks had passed rather than hours. We all ignored the potential consequences of underestimating this man.

"Let us take this into the manager's office upstairs please?" Andre insisted.

When we made our way through the corridors to Andre's office I could see that the fire really hadn't damaged anything other than the auditorium; though it was the most important part of the theatre business could still be prosperous.

When we all took a seat in Andre's office he finally asked.

"What is your idea Vicomte?"

"This Fine Arts Academy; we're still doing it am I right?"

"Yes." Andre nodded, "We're under contract to do so."

"There are fifty sponsors am I correct?"

"No, there's actually more." Andre said wearily.

"What? How could there be more? I thought only fifty people were permitted."

"Perhaps it'd be best for mademoiselle to leave the room for awhile." Andre directed towards Meg.

"I'm sorry Meg." I told her as she quietly stood up and closed the door behind her.

"Why are there more than fifty Andre?"

"Dear Vicomte people do not think of me wrongly for not doing anything about it, but while Monsieur Firmin was working here he suggested that we should keep our options open to the incoming students especially if their sponsors were so keen on their success that they decided to place a down payment ensuring us of their irrefutable talent they would permanently contribute to the theatre…"

"You've accepted bribes!" this was so wrong! "How long has this been going on!"

"A month after our arrival…" Andre admitted.

"Andre we didn't even receive any resumes one month after our arrival! How could you cheat these students!"

Andre casted a somber look on his face. True, I should've expected this sort of action from Firmin and Andre. After all their jobs before the Opera Populaire was associated with the junk business.

"How many slots did you already promise to people who haven't even showcased yet?" I finally asked pinching the bridge of my nose with my eyes closed.

"Thirty-eight."

Unbelievable. I started to regroup. We had to accept fifty students that showcased; no matter what. It was the just thing to do; what we had promised to a world of talent. We would just have to explain why we were now going to have eighty-eight students instead of fifty.

"This is what we're going to Andre..." I opened my eyes and made eye contact with him to project the seriousness of this situation, "You are going to allow those thirty-eight sponsors that bribed you a slot because I see no way around it. You are also going to accept fifty more students who actually received callbacks."

"We haven't that much room here for eighty-eight students!"

"Well you're going to have to find some way to fit all of them in here because I don't see any other option. The students can learn to get along and share with everyone else who already live here."

"Very well…what was your idea you were about to say?" Andre probed.

"We hold bets."

"What?"

If there was anything I knew about rich people it was that they liked prestigious gambling, and all of the sponsors were very, especially the ones who had already bribed Firmin and Andre for a slot.

"Each month we could have the students do some form of artistic or musical challenge and hold bets."

"Well surely the sponsors would only bet on their own applicant."

"That's not necessarily true, since they're monthly challenges they would just bet on who would be the best and make money or either lose it. Sponsors friends would be invited to place bets as well."

"So we would then bet against them?" Andre began to understand.

"Yes, and since we're always here to see for ourselves all of the students progress we would know who to bet on." I didn't think it was necessarily hustling but rather just having knowledge of a good talent. Though I didn't like to do this what else could we really do to get money?

"Vicomte this is an excellent idea."

"I wish it didn't have to resort to this however." I sighed.

"Do you gamble then?"

"From time to time I'll enjoy playing with luck." I answered. I didn't have to ask Andre to know that he gambled.

Suddenly the door opened. I turned around to see a police officer.

"Vicomte, Monsieur Andre we have completed the police reports." The officer said.

"No accidents I hope?" Andre asked.

"I'm sorry sir but Signore Piangi's body was just found backstage."

"But the fire didn't reach the stage." Andre interjected.

"No sir, it appears that he either committed suicide or was murdered. A hangman's noose was wrapped around his neck. Most likely a murder due to similar finds."

"Similar finds?" Andre's face grew frantic.

"A policeman claims to have found this so called 'Phantom' and that he and two other policemen had chased him up to the roof. Apparently he strangled one to death, and shot the other two each in the arm and leg before knocking them both in the heads leaving them unconscious. Only Officer Roger's woke up out of the two of them."

Andre looked absolutely mortified, but this didn't add up. I went after him when he had plunged through the depths of the theatre with Christine, the only way this could've happened was if after Christine and I left the cellars he went to escape and ran into police. I wasn't exactly keeping track of the time either so there was no way to tell.

"You're sure it was the Phantom?" I asked the officer.

"Yes. Officer Rogers says that he worse the same mask from the performance." He confirmed.

Then it had to be true.

"Speaking of the Phantom; officer did you do a thorough search in the cellars?" Andre asked.

"We're looking for evidence to see if he had plans for what happened earlier written down and any form of identity." The officer responded.

I knew there would be no luck in that, and as much as I didn't want to be in this building anymore I couldn't help but wonder if the Phantom felt the same. That haunting question lingered in my head if he would return, but perhaps he was far away by now.

"Thank you officer." Andre said as the policeman left. But soon enough the door opened again, this time it was Madame Giry.

"Madame Giry how is Lorenzo?" I asked her.

"He is well; just a broken arm and shoulder. He was sleeping when I left."

"And Christine?"

"I told her to watch him in case he woke up wondering where he was."

"You could've asked one of the servants to do that." I frowned upon the thought of making Christine stay awake; surely she had to have been tired after what had happened in the catacombs.

"They were not my servants to order. Christine looked like she could use something to do anyways."

This concerned me. Christine probably was worrying too much about everything, but could I blame her?

"Thank you Madame Giry for taking care of Lorenzo." I felt bad the boy had to come to Paris on such a bad occasion.

"There is nothing to thank me for. I shall see you both soon then?" She said nodding at Andre as well.

"Yes, thank you for resuming your post here." Andre bid.

After Madame Giry left Andre and I had gone over a lot of insurance papers trying to get everything situated to make the next day of work easier. It wasn't until the glow of the sun behind the clouds caught our attention.

"Andre I must go and check on Christine."

"Very well. Vicomte I will need you here later tonight though; we've only less than a week until the Fine Arts Academy presentations begin."

"Yes I'll be back around five o'clock pm. Is that fine?"

Andre nodded and I finally left the opera house. The ride home had made me realize how exhausted I truly was. When I got home I quietly entered The Red Room; the guest room Lorenzo was occupying. There I could see Lorenzo propped up with pillows behind his back as he slept, and to his right was Christine sitting on a chair with her head in her arms resting on the edge of the bed. I walked over to her and lightly kissed the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her hair.

"She just fell asleep not too long ago."

I looked up to see that Lorenzo was awake.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

He shook his head, "I'm a light sleeper. My eyes were just closed."

"It's nice to finally meet you Signore Trentacosta." I held out my right hand until he hesitantly shook mine.

"Thank you…for letting me stay here tonight."

"It's my pleasure. I'm just sorry that you have to have a bad memory for your first night in Paris."

He seemed as if he were in a different place or was distracted by some other thoughts.

"Well Signore Trentacosta I must sleep because I've been at the opera house all night and I must take Christine to a more comfortable place to rest."

"Yes, you do." he strongly agreed.

I lifted Christine into my arms but before leaving the room I turned around to tell Lorenzo that he was welcome to go about the house make himself at home. He thanked me again and then I took Christine into my room and lay her on the magnificent king sized bed. At least here she would be more comfortable. When I went to the bathroom down the hall to change my clothes and brush my teeth my head randomly drop down at times in a desperate cry for sleep. After walking out of the bathroom I looked at the end of the hall where my bedroom was and I knew I wouldn't make it so I went into one of the many other guest rooms and the moment my head hit the pillow I was gone.

* * *

**A lack of Christine, Erik, or Lorenzo in this chapter, but it was really important to put this in the story for many reasons soon to come. The next chapter will be in Christine's POV when everyone in Raoul's house wakes up but he has to go to work on Valentine's Day, whoop! and Christine and Lorenzo end up talking some more, and when they have this conversation interesting and very crucial things come up, and of course more lying. Don't worry I haven't forgotten about poor Erik, the chapter after will be Erik's POV on Valentine's Day and he'll be discussing things with Madame Giry as she tells him of what the police reports have found. so stick around! Review! Danke shun!**


	9. CH 9: Love At First Sound

**Okay, so this chapter is the longest one I wrote and appears lengthy but most of it is dialog between Lorenzo and Christine. In this chapter it's Valentine's Day, and at the end of the chapter it isn't over. I decided to add a little twist at the end that I think you readers might enjoy ;] **

**another note, as much as I wish I could record a clip of me playing a song and attaching it to appropriate parts of the story so you can get more of a feel of what the characters are hearing when listening to music...I can't :[ there's a scene in the early part of this chapter when Christine hears Lorenzo playing a sad tune on the piano, just to help give you guys an idea of what it would sound like I will tell you to imagine the song "Davy Jones" by Hans Zimmerman (Pirates of the Caribbean 2). It's a very simple and melancholy tune, and I leave that option for you to look it up if you'd like a full feel of what Christine feels as she describes the song. (No, I don't own anything Phantom of the Opera or Pirates of the Caribbean). please enjoy reading this chapter. it took be a very long time to edit/add/cut a lot conversation between Lorenzo and Christine, so I hope I added and cut all the right things. read and review, thank you! **

* * *

**CHAPTER 9: Love At First Sound**

_"...opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back,_

_and instead of dying,_

_he sings..." -Robert Benchley_

**Christine's POV**

"Miss Daae."

I opened my eyes to see one of Raoul's servants hovering over me. I slowly sat up and found myself in his room.

"I'm sorry to have wakened you, Monsieur Trentacosta advised us not to wake you for some time, but it's now four o'clock."

"In the afternoon?"

"Yes ma'am."

Four o'clock! It was improper for a lady to be in bed past ten in the morning, but I couldn't deny that the twelve hour sleep was something my body needed. I felt a lot better. A small knock came from the door and the maid walked out as Raoul entered the room.

"How did you sleep my dear?" he pressed a soft kiss on my forehead as he took a seat next to me on the mattress.

"Very well, too well I'm afraid." I honestly felt a slobbish for sleeping in this late; over half the day was now already over.

"Nonsense, you needed rest my love." He stroked my cheek with his thumb and sighed, "I actually have to be on my way though."

I noticed he was wearing his light brown leather coat, which he only wore when going out to places, it was the coat from when I first saw him at the opera house.

"What time did you get in this morning?"

"Around six o'clock. Lorenzo told me that you hadn't been sleeping that long when I came to check in on him."

"He was awake?"

"Unfortunately I think I might've waked him when I came in to get you, but I guess he seems fine. Apparently he's been awake all morning."

Did he not sleep at all?

"You're going to the theatre." It wasn't a question; it was something I just had to say out loud to help myself get used to the idea because this whole situation seemed so bizarre; we were still in Paris. Last night I was torn between two men, stolen away by one of them, and forced to choose my life. Going to England actually now _did _seem like the ideal thing to do; ideal but not something I would've enjoyed.

"Yes. Christine please don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

"No, I'm not. It's just strange to wake up to…a new day." I felt like I made no sense.

"That's the point Christine; it's a new day." Raoul gave that boyish smile that echoed through my childhood memory, "You should go out and enjoy the day, or what's left of it. Perhaps you could show Lorenzo around the city? One of the maids told me he's been doing nothing but sitting at the piano for hours just staring at it."

"You play?"

"No, it just came with the house; it's in the music room downstairs."

"Oh." Was all I managed to get out.

"Well I must be off; I'll try not to be too long." He gave me a quick peck on the lips but before leaving the room he stopped in the doorway, "And Christine, maybe you'd like to go to Madame Giry's house later on? I'm sure Meg would have something you could wear…instead of that wedding dress…" then he left.

I had forgotten that I was still wearing Erik's wedding dress. The thought that this dress could be the only thing I would have left as a remembrance of Erik sent a chill down my spine; solid proof he existed. Where was Erik now? Was he even alive? God knows what that man could do to himself that state of sadness I left him behind. I didn't want Erik to be dead.

Then, piercing through the silence of Raoul's home, I could hear a soft melody weave through the air. I held my breath as I began to follow the bittersweet tune that tenderly echoed through the halls until I came into a bright room with nothing but a piano in the center with Lorenzo seated before it. Even though he could only play with his right hand because his other arm was in a sling; the melody was nonetheless beautiful. He struck the high piano keys on the right playing a slow melancholy tune. His head was bowed down and his dark brown hair hung in front of him as he played. I had never heard this song before, but it as I listened I felt the beating of my heart sync to the beat and fill with sadness. As I continued to listen I felt as if I had lost a part of my soul that would never return. The song finally came to an end.

"That was beautiful." I whispered.

Lorenzo quickly sat up. His silver eyes glistened in the sunlight as he looked in my direction. He turned away to face opposite of where I stood.

"How long have you been there?" his voice was unsteady and deep.

"I came in a little after you started playing."

His back still faced me and he said nothing. Had I intruded on his privacy?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. It's just…it was really beautiful."

At this he slowly turned around and looked at me. If there was anything that stood out the most about Lorenzo it was his silver eyes and in contrast with his dark brown hair it was hard to not notice how alluring he was.

"Thank you."

"Who wrote it?" surely Erik would've played it for me; it seemed like something that would appeal to his liking.

"I did…"

"It's very sad."

"Yes."

"Does it have a name?"

"Sophie…Sophie's Lullaby."

"You must really love her." I gave him a smile; Sophie was a lucky girl to have him.

"Yes. I did."

This remark made me sympathize for Lorenzo; no wonder his eyes held such sadness.

"What happened?" he looked off into space as his jaw clenched, I could see I was touching on a sensitive topic, "Forgive me, you don't have to answer that."

"She died in a fire nine years ago; six years old." He almost whispered.

It dawned on me that Sophie wasn't a lover.

"Your sister?"

"Yes."

I now understood. His chest, they were burns. He had been in the same fire when he was thirteen. How horrible was that fire that it had mangled his body to extremes? They were so horrid and misshapen that if the burns from his chest were on his face instead it would've been worse than Erik's deformity.

I sat next to him on the piano bench as he continued to stare off into space. His face held no expression, but his eyes overflowed with emptiness. I wanted to comfort him and let him know I too had lost someone special. I placed my hand on his back.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered.

He turned his face towards mine.

"I wasn't strong enough." Was all he said then one of the maids came in telling Lorenzo that there was a carriage ready for him to go into the city.

"Christine-"he hesitantly called my name, "Would you want to come? I don't know Paris…or rather, no, just stay it's good to learn things alone."

"No, I'll go with you." I didn't want to stay in Raoul's house all day, "I have to go to a friend's house anyway." Raoul was right; I should at least change out of the wedding dress.

"I just need to get a few things before we go." Lorenzo half smiled.

I waited for him in the carriage, but when he came in he looked aggravated.

"Is something wrong?"

"I can't find my compositions." He muttered.

"Were they in that bag of yours in the room?"

"Yes. They were. Did you say we were going to your friend's house?" he asked sharply.

"If you didn't mind going after you're done with your errands."

"Madame Giry's house?" he inquired.

"Yes, I have to get a change of clothes."

"No, I don't mind." The frustration in his voice made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Where did you want to go?" I asked timidly.

"The bank, I have to exchange money to buy some new clothes. Then perhaps something to eat; I'm sure you're hungy."

It was true. I was very hungry.

"Did you eat anything?"

"No, I don't like being waited on."

I knew he meant Raoul's servants because I didn't like it either; it made me feel awkward.

"You're wearing nothing but a dress." He pointed out.

"I know."

"It's snowing outside." He shrugged off his coat and handed it to me.

"Won't you be cold?" I asked while accepting his jacket.

"Hardly, I must buy a new one anyway." His jacket smelt wonderful, I wondered if it was what Italy smelt like.

"You don't look Italian." Anyone could see that, he seemed almost too pale, even the way he talked didn't suggest he could be from there. He looked nothing like Piangi or some of the other Italians from the opera house.

"I'm not full Italian. You don't miss a thing Christine."

"What else are you then?"

"My mother was Scottish-English. My father was full Italian."

I didn't miss that he said 'was' and began to wonder if Lorenzo had any family. I would ask him another time.

After we went to the bank I helped Lorenzo shop for new clothes. I had never shopped with a male before, but it was a lot easier than shopping with Meg. He bought plain white shirts and two new coats; both black. He seemed to have trouble deciding what to wear on top of his undershirts though. He caught the attention of the salesman.

"Ahh monsieur allow me to help you! Perhaps something like this?" the salesman pulled off the rack an elegant light blue vest that looked like something Raoul would wear, I almost laughed at Lorenzo's stale expression. The salesman noticed Lorenzo's disinterest, "Perhaps something darker then?"

After Lorenzo purchased all the clothes he needed to acquire he went in the back of the store to change appropriately for the weather. When he came out it was truly a sight; his new black coat and crimson vest underneath was very slimming and brought attention to his broad shoulders. He looked older than Raoul.

"Decent enough?" he asked uncertainly.

"Perfect for you."

We decided to go to a local French café for lunch or rather breakfast since neither of us had anything to eat all day, even though it was almost near dinner time. He took a bite into his chicken sandwich when he closed his eyes as he chewed.

"This is very good." He said after he swallowed, "You French live up to your reputation."

"What reputation?" I asked curious.

"That they make the finest sandwiches. I am now able to say so for myself." He continued to eat when I spotted a bit of mayonnaise on the corner of his mouth.

I snickered at his cluelessness.

"Why do you laugh?" he questioned.

"You just have some- I'll get it." I took a napkin and wiped it off for him.

"Embarrassing." Something then seemed to have caught his attention causing him to look to the left. I looked to see what had grasped his interest to see a couple leaning over the table to kiss one another, "I'm sorry you couldn't spend today with the Vicomte."

I turned back to see him gazing at me, "It's fine, the theatre needs a lot of attention."

"On Valentine's Day." He remarked.

A sinking realization filled my body. I didn't even know that today was Valentine's, but it had to be because yesterday was the 13th. Raoul must've not realized it either since he said nothing to me earlier.

"It's fine." I gave an assuring smile that I was alright.

"Do you love him?" most of the conversations Lorenzo and I had were questions; questions that would once in awhile lead to some sort of small confession about ourselves. It almost felt like a game to get to know the other one without telling too much of your own self. As much as I found myself strangely enjoying this pattern of conversation; this question was rather a bold one.

"Of course I love Raoul."

"Not Raoul, Erik."

"What?"

"Do you love Erik?"

I mentioned Erik's name once to him. How could he have remembered something that appeared insignificant?

"Why do you ask that? I'm engaged."

"Engaged women rarely cry over other men, or at least from what I attempt to understand."

"Maybe you shouldn't attempt to do so." I retorted.

"There are countless types of love. You say one thing and your eyes recall an entire memory that echoes hurt throughout your face; especially last night. I asked if you love Erik to see…not to pry, I just never have talked…or understand someone before."

This was the first time Lorenzo admitted something and he had a hard time trying to say it. He wanted to understand me; no one ever said that to me before…not even Raoul. He noticed.

"I care for him."

"What happened?"

"He…he wasn't who I thought he was."

"You don't like being in my presence then..."

"What? No, I never said-"

"You said I reminded you of him last night."

I was at a loss for words. It was true. Lorenzo did remind me or Erik; their looks, their deformities, the music, the way they talked, their charisma, even their fashion, but Lorenzo somehow differed from Erik in so many other ways. I could talk to him.

"You just have some things in common." That was simple.

"I'll stop. Forgive me." He apologized.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you have a lover?" I asked. I was actually rather curious to know.

"You mean someone to love me in return?"

"Well yes."

"Then no."

I felt sad, who wouldn't want to be taken by a talented young man?

"Do you love her?" I posed.

"I don't think I can even call it that…" he sighed, "She knows not of my existence."

"Why don't you make it known to her? Today is Valentine's Day; you could have some luck in charming her."

"I-I do not know her name." he admitted.

"Love at first sight?" I slightly teased.

"No, more like first sound…"

"Who is she then?"

"Well, when I arrived last night…no, I'm going to sound mad-"

"Lorenzo, I've heard madder things before."

He gave another one of his half smiles.

"When I arrived last night I was late for the opera, and wasn't allowed in the auditorium but there was one song before the fire started and I could hear music and this girl…"He cut off thinking of the next words to say, "I could hear her sing and her voice-"

I couldn't breathe while Lorenzo's story processed through my mind.

"Was her voice good?" I cautiously asked.

He looked up and his eyes burnt right into mine, "Unlike anything in the universe."

"Is…is this the girl you…love?"

"You think I'm mad."

"No! I…I don't think you're mad, but you fell for someone because of their voice?"

"It wasn't just her voice, but…the soul within it, it was…I don't expect you to understand." He sighed.

But how I did indeed understand, and deeply flattered that my singing had blindly caused someone to attract someone like Lorenzo. Even though a part of me wanted to tell him right now that it was me who had sung last night, something fought against the urge and told me things would be best to keep to myself. I always thought Erik had been too generous when he claimed he fell in love with me the moment he heard me sing, but now there was true evidence right in front of me that it happened and more than once.

"I'll probably never find her." He spoke to himself.

"Why do you say that?" it had been less than a day's worth of time and he was already successful.

"I'm not fortunate when it comes to things like that."

"Things like what?"

"Love…or companionship."

"Why would you think that?" I softly asked.

"If I was then you wouldn't have seen shuddered at the sight of my chest…it doesn't matter, even if I did meet her she wouldn't be available to me."

"How could you know that?"

"When she sang…I told you it wasn't just her voice; her soul manifested itself in that song and within whomever she sang it with. The rarest beauty comes from truth; truth came from that stage. She could never be mine."

I remembered the moment Erik sang on stage and how his words caressed my senses, allowing myself to release the desire to sing for no one but myself and him. I would never admit it to anyone, but the audience disappeared that night…there was only music and Erik, and I felt something strong come over my body; something that I couldn't fight. For years I had thought I was the only one who could feel affected in that way musically or was the only one who could recognize it, but Lorenzo _heard_ this himself. Not only did he hear the music but he was under the impression that I _belonged _to Erik just because he heard us sing. Lorenzo knew nothing, but could feel everything.

"It's almost sunset." He pointed out, "We should go to your friend's house. I'm looking very forward to meeting her."

We paid for our meal and left. Madame Giry usually stayed at the opera house with the rest of the ballet dancers but owned a small house in Paris. When her husband died she didn't see any reason for her to stay in their home, but now with the opera house going under construction and no one to instruct for the time being where else would she go? When we arrived at Meg's house the sun had just finished setting and it was getting darker by the minute. We walked on the front path towards the front door.

"Meg-"

"Shh!" Lorenzo clasped his hand over my mouth, "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

I stayed silent for a moment but heard nothing.

"I don't hear anything." I said after Lorenzo's hand dropped from my lips.

"Yes because they stopped playing." He growled.

I knocked three times at the front door, "Meg? Meg are you home?"

There was silence.

"I just heard a door close inside." Lorenzo bitterly informed.

How could he hear things that I couldn't?

"I can hear you Meg. It's me, Christine!"

The door finally cracked open to reveal Meg's face.

"Hi Christine." She greeted shyly. She then looked at Lorenzo, who for some reason looked beyond angry, "What brings you here?" she asked looking back to me.

"I just wondered if I could borrow some clothes. Raoul doesn't have anything for me to wear."

"Oh…well of course. I'll go pick some and bring them to you-"

"I'm so very sorry but do you mind if I come in? I'm in need of a bathroom." Lorenzo somehow managed to make a simple request sound like a death threat. Why was acting like this?

Meg timidly nodded and opened the door to let us in, "The bathroom is the last room on the left down the hall."

"Is your mother home?" Lorenzo inquired.

"No, she's at work."

"But of course." And he left to go to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why he's acting like this…he was fine just before we got here." I apologized to Meg.

"It's really fine. I'm not bothered at all. I'm going to just get you some things to wear. Just please sit here and wait. Maman is very embarrassed how dirty the house is. Please just wait there Christine." And she was off.

I took a seat at the table in the front room. Meg came back in what seemed less than ten minutes with a stuffed bag.

"There you are Christine. I hope they all fit comfortably, but I happen to have a lot of chores to do still so maybe we could do something another time?" she seemed rushed. I got the impression she didn't want me here.

"We should sometime." I agreed.

After a few more minutes Lorenzo strode back into the room.

"Meg, am I right?" Lorenzo asked.

"Yes."

"I couldn't help but notice a piano in one of the rooms down the hall. Do you play?" he continued.

"No."

"And no one else is here?" his jaw clenched tightly.

"Just me." Meg wearily smiled.

"Lorenzo what is this all about?" I asked. He was being so rude!

"Very well. Have a good night then." Then furiously walked right out of the door.

"I-I'm so sorry. I should go see what's wrong with him."

"Goodnight Christine, I'll see you soon." Meg closed the door behind me as soon as I left.

I got in the carriage and sat across from Lorenzo, who was staring out of the window fuming.

"Lorenzo, what is wrong?"

"Do not talk. Just don't" his eyes closed as his hand held his face.

Silence filled the compartment with the exception of Lorenzo's rapid breath. I was scared to say anything but something about Meg had severely bothered him to make him this angry, and I was beyond shocked by his callousness.

"Why were you being so rude to Meg?"

"I thought I told you not to talk." His eyes were still closed.

"You're obviously so upset about something that Meg did so why-"

"Upset? I'm absolutely infuriated!" his silver eyes finally opened and casted a menacing look that was equivalent to Erik's, "She's a liar!"

As scared as I was, Meg was my friend and I was going to defend her, "How could you assume such a thing? She's not a liar!"

"Really Christine? Then tell me who was playing the piano when we got there!" he snapped.

"What are you talking about? Meg doesn't play the piano!"

"My compositions Christine, remember? You said her mother found me. My music was in my bag when I came to Paris, and now I sure as hell know that I didn't drop them anywhere because I could hear her playing my music when we got to her house! I knew she was your friend so I had to leave before I lost control of my temper."

"You heard someone playing the piano?" There could be no way...

"Yes, I did. I know my own songs when I hear them Christine."

"And that's why you told me to be quiet when we got there…"

"Yes."

"Monsieur!" we were almost at Raoul's but I didn't care. I slightly opened the compartment door, "Monsieur, please go back!" I cried.

"To Madame Giry's?" the driver asked.

"Yes!" I slammed the door shut.

"So she does play the piano?" Lorenzo queried.

"No. No she does not."

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**The next chapter will be in Erik's POV (why do you think so? ;]), and *spoiler alert* we get to see Christine bitch out Meg in the next chapter. WOO! haha, and again if you would like to see something happen in this story or hear a certain character say something to another character then please suggest it, I'm open to fun and crazy ideas. weiver - (spell it backwards) **


	10. CH 10: The Last Chance

**WE ARE SO CLOSE TO THE BIG DAY! haha thank you for the reviews :] and thanks to those of you reading! I really wanted Christine to go all out and bitch at Meg, but I wanted it to be realistic for Christine's character...so I tried my best. acchkkk I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**A/N: in the quotations area I do before chapters I believe I'm going to be quoting a bunch of songs that I think lyrics are relevant to the story, so if you find that you like it but don't know the song then just ask me what it's from in the reviews, because from one POTO fan to another...we know that music definitely feeds the soul, and who am I to not offer beautiful music to those I share so much in common with? haha and on another note, Erik in this chapter plays one of Lorenzo's song...I guess imagine it to be Once Upon A December from Anastasia (I've actually tried to play it and the timing is very frustrating! and I do not own Phantom related things or Anastasia) I'm just telling you to imagine Once Upon A December to help you all visualize or rather "audiolize" what the characters are hearing**

**okay enough talking, more reading! :D **

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**CHAPTER 10: The Last Chance**

_"...this story's old but it goes,_

_on and on until we disappear,_

_calm me and let me taste,_

_the salt you breathed,_

_while you were underneath,_

_I am the one who haunts your dreams,_

_of mountains sunk below the sea,_

_I spoke the words but never gave a thought,_

_to what they all could mean,_

_I know that this is what you want,_

_a funeral keeps both of us apart,_

_you know that you are not alone,_

_need you like water in my lungs..." -Jesse Lacey_

**Erik's POV**

Madame Giry didn't arrive until morning, and when she did news was very interesting indeed. The police were investigating my home in search for identification and evidence to any other crimes which may have occurred at the Opera Populaire in the past; they wouldn't be successful. However, it came to my attention that they were also wrecking havoc and collecting most of my belongings. My sheet music, drawings, dioramas of numerous stage sets, and stolen set pieces were being tampered with. I was irate by this information and demanded to leave for the opera house but Madame Giry insisted I stay out of sight and within her home while she would do everything in her power to salvage what she could in my domain. True, the mob had proved successful in locating my prime whereabouts, but they knew nothing of the other catacombs down below the theatre; which was where Madame Giry would move everything she could manage to gather.

She also informed me of the police reports relating to the number of deaths from last night. There had been a total of three casualties; only one died by my hand. Lorenzo Trentacosta had been chased on to the roof of the opera house and strangled a policeman to death, and then with the man's gun and shot the other two officers twice and bashed their heads with it; only one of them woke up. Madame Giry and I concluded that Lorenzo Trentacosta had not meant to kill the men he shot; otherwise he would've shot them in a more vital part of the body, but knocked them unconscious and used the dead officer to break his fall when he jumped off the roof. It also seemed very peculiar that he did not simply take off the mask, but Madame Giry suggested that he was in belief that he was being chased because he had snuck in through the dressing room. Though this was probably true, I knew that Lorenzo Trentacosta was no classic gentlemen. To fight a man in self defense was one thing but to strangle a man to death, especially someone who upheld the law, was another. I knew this from detailed experience. Anyone can stab or shoot someone, with one quick motion the deed is easy and done, but when you strangle someone it requires a form of rage to be able to kill them with your own hands without stopping to change your mind due to life's basic morals. Not only did he strangle him but he used him to jump off a roof; which in my mind seemed rather vulgar and clever all at once. The fact that I thought it was clever just helped support my judgment of Lorenzo Trentacosta; he was lethal to the average man.

I couldn't sleep. Knowing the exact location of Christine's whereabouts and that she would be staying in Paris for at least another year had made me restless. Not to mention she was additionally in the presence of a dangerous person. How could I know that if this Lorenzo boy would kill a policeman what would then stop him from killing someone like Christine? Perhaps not kill her but nonetheless it made me utterly distraught, and jealous. Yes, I was jealous that this boy who had never even met Christine would be spending a night, if not more, in the same vicinity as her. But was I also jealous of his talent as well? It was claimed in the letter that he was a composer, but who was that fop to be the judge of musical talent; especially in my area of expertise? Whether or not Madame Giry spotted me taking Lorenzo Trentacosta's compositions out of his bag I could've cared less, but from what I could read on the musical staff…it was good; very good.

Madame Giry had left in the evening to go back to the opera house leaving me alone with Meg. We never spoke a word to one another. I stayed in one room and she remained in another. As much as I always have appreciated Madame Giry for helping me for as long as I've known her; Meg was quite the opposite. I had asked her mother on many numerous occasions to restrain her daughter from wandering in areas of the opera house in places she shouldn't roam. The secret entrances and passage ways were installed for my safety and privacy, and for anyone who tried to find me would ultimately pay the price curiosity asked for. Virtually I was always unmoved by their deaths, but due to the fact that Meg was the daughter of the woman who had enabled my life to be one with music and art; it seemed that warning her of her daughter's annoyingly intimate relationship with inquisitiveness played a fair trade.

I made myself comfortable in a small room that lined the walls with nothing but over flooded bookshelves. Madame Giry always brought a book with her to the theatre in case she had a few moments to spare to be able to enjoy herself when she wasn't instructing the dancers. There was also a small piano located in the corner. I was relieved at first but when I sat down in front of it I could feel my chest cave inwards; everything I ever wrote or played had always been for Christine. In an attempt to shove this knowledge to the back of my mind I began to play something popular and simple; Mozart's Rondo. After a couple measures I stopped playing. What the hell was I doing? I never even liked Mozart to begin with; all of his music was no doubt catchy but where was the darkening influence of life within them? I started to recall the musical preferences in my mind but after playing a few verses of each song I had to stop; was there nothing that appealed to me anymore? Before Christine entered my life I had marveled at great composers who had come before me and played their music with such fascination, but when Christine came along something struck me. I viciously began writing my own music for I was unable to find anything else that expressed the way I felt about her. She was my muse. She granted me the skill to create a world I couldn't make alone. It was her that had given me the wings for my music and imagination. Christine became music herself in my life, and yet I needed her like water in my lungs.

Admitting defeat I then remembered Lorenzo's composition I had taken. I pulled it out of my pocket and unfolded the few sheets. There was no title of his score. Placing it on the piano's music stand I took a few moments to look over the song. There was something about his composition that caught my attention; the timing. The timing of his song was very unusual. I tried to envision the song in my head but decided to just play it out and hear it for myself. After playing the first few measures I was quite impressed with the music, but then the song got heavier and demanded my hands to move at unusual paces in contrast with one another. Now I felt something towards Lorenzo Trentacosta that I had never had for anyone else; respect. These unusual timings had blended together so melodically; it was not a piece of music a mediocre pianist could play flawlessly the first time reading it through. Not only did the music posses perfect harmonies but it also contained emotion depth. Listening to the tune while I played I felt I was being carried into an unknown story. It became apparent to me that this song wasn't just a piece of piano music; it begged for a voice to expose its true meaning.

"Meg!"

I immediately stopped playing and felt my face go white. I quickly tucked the sheet music into my pocket while closing the door behind me ran out into the front room where a wide eyed Meg stood.

"Meg? Meg are you home?" Christine's voice called from behind the front door.

"Don't you dare open that door." I whispered so deafly but demanding into her ear. She looked absolutely terrified.

"I just heard a door close inside." A males voice that I didn't know came from outside. How could he have possibly heard that?

"I can hear you Meg. It's me Christine!"

Meg turned around to look at me with a helpless look on her face. I gave her a severe look of disapproval but it was too late. She cracked open the door.

"Hi Christine."

Oh if she wasn't the damn daughter of the woman who saved my life I would kill her a thousand times over.

"What brings you here?" Meg continued.

I was forced to quietly retreat into the spare room. I silently closed the door and pressed my ear against it.

"I just wondered if I could borrow some clothes. Raoul doesn't have anything for me to wear." God how I hated that name! And to hear it from her lips!

Meg agreed to get her clothes but then the man required a bathroom thusly having Christine come inside of the house. This man was clearly not Raoul. His voice was baritone and suggestively threatening. I heard his footsteps grow closer to the door and then stop as it echoed further away; he was in the room with the piano. A sneak! I wanted to leap out of the door and ask him what was his business here and why was he with Christine. Wait…he was with Christine and it wasn't Raoul; Lorenzo.

"Meg, am I right?" Lorenzo made way to the front room.

"Yes." She was scared.

"I couldn't help but notice a piano in one of the rooms down the hall. Do you play?"

"No."

"And no one else is here?"

Blast! This boy heard me play his song!

"Just me."

"Lorenzo what is this all about?" god, now she was saying _his _name. She hadn't even known him a day and now they were out and about together?

"Very well. Have a good night then." He spat. I could hear the door crash open and him march out of the house.

"I-I'm so sorry. I should go see what's wrong with him." Christine cared about another man! This was more than I could take! Perhaps I was overacting, but I didn't care. My Christine was right there, and now she was leaving.

I waited a few moments for the door to close until I came out of the room. I was prepared tell Meg off for letting them both in while I was here.

"Damn it girl, why did you let them…Meg?"

She was sitting on the floor with her head tucked into her knees when I heard a few sniffs escape from her body. She was crying. I felt more awkward the louder her crying got. I thought about asking her why she was upset, but instead I quietly went back into the spare room and stared out the window. The sky was a dark shade of blue dimly lit by the few stars that were out tonight. Where did I go wrong? I buried my face into my hands. Had I not once been what Christine dreamt of? There was a time when she loved me unconditionally for bringing her music and comfort, and I loved her for loving me. If there was some way I could have known of the Vicomte's arrival in advance then I would have exposed myself to Christine years ago. What if I did? Would she have loved me on her own and forgave me for posing as her Angel of Music sent by her father? I did it all for her; it was always for her. I lifted open the window and felt the icy wind sting against my face. It felt good to breathe in the cold air. All of the sudden I heard the front door smash open.

"Where is he!"

Christine was back! Like a foolish child I quickly ran across the room and hid inside the closet.

"Christine, I-I don't know what you're talking about." Meg was very unconvincing.

"No! You're hiding him! He's here right now and I'm going to find him! You and your mother! You both- I don't know! You both have been up to something- deny it to hell all you want but I know he's here!"

That was the first time I ever heard Christine say the word 'hell' or raise her voice in such a manner. I could hear her running down the hall and getting closer to the room.

"Christine w-who are you talking about?" I could hear Meg run after her.

"You know exactly who I'm talking about! Just shut up!"

My jaw dropped. My vocabulary wasn't exactly perfect, but Christine never said anything remotely insulting to anyone in all of the years I've known her. She always spoke kind words. She had to be upset, and she was upset because she was trying to find me! It didn't make any sense. I heard the footsteps come into the room.

"He's gone." Meg said.

I heard the door slam shut. Oh god, I was in the same room as Christine and hiding myself in this ridiculous closet!

"I know that now." Christine fiercely whispered.

"Christine I swear I didn't-"

"Don't even start Meg- for years your mother has known things…things that not just anyone could know. She knows Erik…I know she knows."

"Christine that's the thing, _she_ knows and not me."

"I know he was here when me and Lorenzo came! Why did you lie to me Meg?"

"He didn't want to see you!" Meg…I was going to kill her. Yes, I was going to kill Meg the instant I got out of this closet.

"What?" Christine's voice broke, "Why doesn't he want to see me?"

"He needed to pick up a few things and that was it...please don't tell anyone we had him here, Maman-"

"Of course I'm not going to tell anyone!" Christine choked…was she crying?

"Why, why do you care?" Meg asked the question I wanted to know myself.

"What kind of question is that?" Christine snapped.

"You pulled off his mask in front of hundreds of people and then left Christine, maybe that's why."

Touché.

"You don't know anything!" Christine began to cry hysterically.

I wanted to jump out of this closet and let her know I was here! But why didn't I? There was so much information I could learn right now. Then I heard a something thump against the closet door and could hear it slide down against the closet door as the crying got louder; it was Christine. She was literally two inches away from me and hearing her cry through the door made my heart feel as if a steak was slowly puncturing through the core.

"Christine…" Meg soothingly called, "Why are you crying?"

"I-I don't k-know."

My heart sank. Of course…why would she cry for me? She chose Raoul last night, why change her mind now?

"Look, Christine I can imagine how hard things must be for you, but you made a choice. Don't you think it's unfair to keep both men in your lives when they can't be in each others?"

"I thought you said you didn't know anything." Christine said coldly.

"It's not that hard to see." Meg sighed, "Don't you think you rushed Christine?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…with the engagement and everything? You knew him when you were a kid and didn't see him for like ten years and barely talked about him, and then he shows up and now you're getting married."

Perhaps I wouldn't kill Meg.

"What…? Don't be crazy-"

"No, don't _you_ be crazy."

"So…is he okay?" Christine whispered.

"Who?"

"Erik."

Oh she said my name, and she wanted to know if I was okay.

"Is that what his name is?" had Madame Giry never told Meg? I knew I could count on her.

"Yes."

"Well…I can't really say. When he was here he never slept or ate or did much of anything."

"He has Lorenzo's compositions." Christine whispered.

"Oh…is that why-"

"Yes, he said he heard someone playing his song when we left your house…that's why I had to come back…c-cause I knew-" Christine's sentence was cut off by her crying.

She would never know this, but I was pressed up against the closet door right behind her with my hand and face pressed against it to be as close to her as possible. I could faintly hear the breathing of her lungs against the door; it was beautiful because it was a sound I thought I may never hear again.

"Well, I don't know where he is…so what are you going to tell Lorenzo?"

"The…truth."

"What!"

What!

"No- not everything…but that someone was here and didn't want to see me and happened to have his music...did he purposely take his music?"

"I have no idea. Maman was reading the letter Raoul sent him, it could've fell out of the bag and the Phantom could've picked it up…"

"You know you can call him Erik right?"

"It's weird to think he actually has a name."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I've just grown used to calling him what everyone knows him by."

"I suppose I know what you mean…I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"It's okay Christine."

"If…if he comes back here could you tell him something for me?"

"What is it?"

"Could you tell him…never mind."

Damn it!

"What were you going to say?"

"I was just going to ask you to tell him Happy Valentine's day for me…but it's not that happy."

Damn right it wasn't a happy day. Two knocks tapped on the door.

"Ladies?" it was Lorenzo.

"That's Lorenzo…I should go, Raoul will be home soon." I heard Christine stand up, "I'm sorry Meg."

"It's okay Christine…tell Lorenzo I'm sorry."

"Meg?"

"Yes Christine?"

"Is he staying?"

"Are you?" Meg whispered.

"Yes."

"I really don't know."

"Thank you Meg."

The door opened and the footsteps grew distant until they were heard no longer, and once again she was gone.

I slowly opened the closet door and walked out into the hallway. When Meg turned from the front door and saw me her eyes grew wide with fear. As angry as I was with her I kept myself composed.

"Tell your mother that I will be settled in my new home the next time she goes to the theatre."

Walking past her I went through the front door and walked down the street. It was now a pitch black night with very few people out on this 'Valentine's Day'. I spotted a parked carriage with no occupants. I quickly untied one of the horses and mounted myself onto the beast and began to make my way to the opera house. I needed to get ready for a lot of things. In four days would be the Fine Arts Academy presentations, in four days I would return what belonged to Lorenzo Trentacosta while he helped me return what was rightfully mine, and in four days would be the beginning of another extraordinary year at the Opera Populaire.

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**Next chapter is in Lorenzo's POV and the Fine Arts Academy Presentations! FINALLY! :]**

**P.S, I'm sorry there was a lack of Lorenzo's fury in this chapter...BUT I have a special surprise when we go through his POV the next chapter ;]**


	11. CH 11: Exposed Lullabies

**I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. I've been quite busy lately, but to make it up to you readers I wrote a VERY lengthy chapter for you. I found it quite entertaining to write. I almost feel as if Christine doesn't really _talk _much to anyone in The Phantom of the Opera. I find it really fun to give her a friend like Lorenzo she can actually discuss things with without any pressure (yet hehe)**

**well I do hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it. when you're done reading there's a small favor I ask of you at the end :3 **

**and sorry for any grammar errors, it's currently 4am..but due to daylight savings time it actually feels like 5am, so yeah hehe**

**(I do not own any Phantom of the Opera related things, or Frank Liszt's "La Campanella" who is a bloody genius might I add) **

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**CHAPTER 11: Exposed Lullabies**

_"...sing us a song,_

_and we'll sing it back to you,_

_we could sing our own,_

_but what would it be,_

_without you...?" -Hayley Williams_

**Lorenzo's POV**

I didn't completely understand Christine's sudden shift of attitude when she decided to go back to Madame Giry's house. I was still rather insulted about being lied to, but I had the whole ride back to calm myself down. The entire way there she was quiet with her face full of frustration. When we had got there she immediately ran for the door and took Meg Giry into another room. I sought this as a perfect opportunity to attempt to find my compositions in her piano room. I wasn't fortunate enough, but instead of getting out of control I decided to give the Giry's incentive to return what belonged to me. I had searched the bookshelves that surrounded the room and found a small book with no title. It captured my attention and when I skimmed through the pages it was clear that it was no novel but a journal. The first few sentences on the first page read:

"_The events that have yet to come forth are clouded, and I cannot make sense of what I have done. Whether I have committed a sin or granted life I shall I never know, but God give me strength to bear the responsibility of my actions for I have saved The Devil's Child…"_

It seemed personal enough. I slipped the book into the inside pocket of my coat and waited for Christine to finish talking to Meg before we finally made way back to the Viscount's home. The Vicomte was sitting in the front room when we entered through the door.

"Oh Christine!" The Vicomte had a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he ran up to embrace her, "I'm so sorry! I had absolutely no idea it was Valentine's Day until someone had mentioned it at the theatre!"

"Raoul, it's really okay. I didn't know it was Valentine's Day either until a couple hours ago."

I felt extremely awkward as the Vicomte leaned in towards Christine for a kiss.

"Raoul…Lorenzo's right there." Christine reminded him.

"Oh yes, excuse me Signore Trentacosta."

"It's quite fine."

"Well Christine, when I found out today was Valentine's I decided to quickly stop by and at least let you know that I remembered, but I have to go back to the Populaire."

"Already?"

"Christine, there's just so much work that needs to be done. I really wish there was less but that dreadful fire caused by-"

"It's okay Raoul…just don't overwork yourself."

He smiled at her and gave her a kiss before he was out the door.

Over the next few days it was quite the same. Christine and I would wake up when the Vicomte came home, and when he left for work we were out and about somewhere exploring Paris because the weather had gotten significantly warmer. Everything I had heard about Paris seemed to be true. The food was amazing, and the city had so much art to offer. I never spent so much time with someone before in my life. What confused me was that I always liked solitude. I could barely even keep conversation with Vincenzo, but there was something about Christine that made me realize how alone I really was…I _enjoyed _talking to her. Christine and I walked into an art store to look around when she had asked me to paint her something.

"You want me to paint you something?"

"Yes. Your music is very good so I'm sure your paintings couldn't be any less imposing." She was too kind.

"Not a painting because I don't want to have to move too much stuff into the opera house…perhaps I could do a drawing."

She smiled at this notion as I paid for a leather-bound sketchbook full of paper along with a case of lead pencils. We wandered back outside unsure of where we wanted to go.

"What do you want me to draw you?" I asked.

"I'm not sure…but I have an idea." She did something she had never done before and took my hand to follow her.

I probably shouldn't have been this thrilled with the feeling, but the last time I held anyone's hand was Sophie's; I tried to pull her away from Cosentino when he set fire to our house. I gripped her hand in return as she led me through the city.

"Where are we going?"

"It's just around the corner."

When we reached the end of the street there was a magnificent church towering over my figure. She led me to the church's stairs when I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Lorenzo what's wrong?"

"I…I don't know if this is a good idea." I couldn't even remember the last time I went to a church, and if I did I was sure that God would strike lightning on my arrival.

"Why not? It's just a church."

"It's not just any church…it's the Notre Dame." The biggest church of them all.

"Exactly. I've lived here almost all my life and I've never even been inside before. I hear it's absolutely beautiful."

"I…I haven't gone to church in so long. I'd feel…out of place-"

"Please?" how could I say _no? _Some people begged for money while others begged for sympathy, but Christine found happiness in the smallest of things. This won me over.

Though I hadn't been to many churches in my life time it didn't take an expert to know how vast and beautiful it was inside. I felt sick to my stomach. I was willing to bet that I was the most despicable human who had ever set foot in this church. Christine knelt down in the pews as she began to silently pray. I took a seat in the row behind her and waited for her to finish. She then asked me to follow her to a small area that had unlit candles.

"We pray for my father…" she said as she lit one candle, "and we pray for Sophie." As she lit another candle.

My breathing stopped when I heard her say this. I shut my eyes tight, and then I could feel all of it. The absence of my family, no one now to live for, and everything that the pain of having nothing could ever give someone I could feel in this exact moment. I felt a gentle hand clasp around mine. Looking up at Christine I now knew that she and Vincenzo were all I had, and I had only known her in less than a week's time. She gave my hand a squeeze. It was so nice to feel somewhat involved in someone else's life.

"If this place lives up to its stories then I want to show you something." Pulling her hand I led her deeper into the church. My mother had once read to me the story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame when I was a little boy and I used to imagine what the view must've been like from the bell towers.

"Lorenzo, where are we going?" Christine whispered as I quickly opened a door to reveal a spiral staircase.

"I want to see something." After finally reaching the top of the stairs and making our way through different halls we were at the top between the two bell towers looking down upon the city.

"It's beautiful."

"That it is." I agreed. The sun was ready to set itself away below the horizon.

"How did you know how to get up here?"

"I didn't really…but my mother used to read me the story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame when I was little."

"The what?"

"You've never heard of it?" I was surprised; after all it was a French story.

"No." she admitted.

"Well, I can't really remember the details of it…but it's about a man who was so ugly and deformed that he was hid away from the world by a man of the church named Frollo. Frollo looked after him and took him in when he was a child after the absence of the boy's mother. His name was Quasimodo; which means half-formed I think. He became the bell ringer of the Notre Dame and lived in the bell towers for all his years until he decided to escape-"

"He escaped?"

"Well, I think he just wanted to get out of this place for awhile...but in the book there's something called 'The Festival of Fools' that happens every year and he decides to go even though Frollo makes it specifically clear that he is never to set foot out of this church-"

"Why would he tell him to stay in the church?"

"Because he had the face of a monster and he would never be shown an ounce of kindness beyond these walls-"

"So what happens?"

"I forget how…but when he goes to The Festival of Fools he's exposed and people start heckling him and being merciless. Out of all the horrible people there's a gypsy girl named Esmeralda who pities Quasimodo and tends to him by giving him water I believe…causing everyone to stop and witness her act of sympathy-"

"You mean kindness?"

"No, I mean sympathy. Quasimodo has never known compassion and when he receives it from Esmeralda he falls deeply in love with her; he tries to kiss her hand in appreciation for what she's done but she won't let him touch her because of his hideousness-"

"I don't see anything good in this story."

"I don't really think there is…everyone basically dies. Esmeralda is accused for being a witch and is hanged. She neglects Quasimodo and falls in love with the captain of the guard, Phoebus, who is already betrothed to another woman but sleeps with Esmeralda anyways…and Frollo, who isn't allowed to be with a woman because he's a man of the church, is deeply attracted to Esmeralda as well-"

"Something…good happens in this story at least though right?" she sounded genuinely distraught.

"I don't really remember anything good happening…I almost think the whole point of the story was to show that one of the only good things was Quasimodo himself; he saved Esmeralda from being killed once but she ended up getting hanged in the end. Quasimodo was a good man but he was ugly…I think when you read the story you notice that there's so many bad things that are caused by people who were born fortunate and it forces you to really wonder where the good in it was until you realize that it was in Quasimodo."

Christine looked down upon the city in silence.

"Almost reminds me of your Phantom..."

"How?" she asked immediately, "Did Quasimodo kill anyone?"

"Not that I can remember-"

"Then it's completely different."

"Not necessarily…Quasimodo was a story written by an author. This Phantom of the Opera is real I'm guessing?"

"Yes."

"It could've been worse."

"How?"

He could've been like me.

"This Phantom…he's disfigured?"

"Supposedly…"

"Well then he could've taken refuge somewhere else in Europe and become an insane serial killer that travelled across the world, or a rapist…but instead he decides to order around an opera house am I correct?"

"Yes…"

"Well obviously he has _some_ sense of morality. He's clearly not insane, but a man who kills is man with a past too dark to share."

"No one knows of his past…"

"Maybe it's not meant to be known yet. Does he still live there?"

"I…I don't know. The fire-"

"Wouldn't have reached the cellars."

"You're right…"

I don't know why but I was somewhat fascinated by the idea of a masked man lurking about the opera house. I had moved away from Venice to escape such a story only to find another so similar here.

"How hard is he to find?"

"Lorenzo…" Christine placed her hand on my shoulder and looked me strait in the eyes, "Promise me you won't go looking for him."

"I wasn't intending to Christine."

"Please…just don't."

"I won't." Did she care that I would get hurt from such a man? The sun touched the horizon and began to set, lighting the city with a warm glow of orange."You still want a drawing?"

She nodded and to my relief made her seem a little less tense. I took out the notebook and began a rough sketch of the city.

"What happened to your family?" she hesitantly asked.

I exhaled deeply as I continued to draw, "My father died of sickness a week after my fifth birthday, and my mother died in the fire along with Sophie…"

"You survived…"

"Barely." The lead felt good between my fingers while I pushed it against the paper to get the shadings just right.

"What caused the fire?"

My mind began to project a painful flashback. _It was another typical day in Venice. I was playing the piano when I could hear Coesntino roaring at my mother. I had just turned thirteen. I thought I could stand up to him that day, but I was so wrong. I had burst into the other room and told Cosentino to leave my mother alone and we were leaving. My poor mother didn't need to be in the abusive relationship any longer. This only angered him. He struck me in the face so hard that I was incoherent then he left the room. It wasn't until we smelt something burning we knew something was wrong. Sophie, I had looked for her and when I reached upstairs she was trapped in her room surrounded by flames screaming for me. God- I ran towards her to pull her out when Cosentino came and grabbed me by the shirt._

"_I'm going to give you the worst of them all." He dragged me back down the stairs away from Sophie's screams. I cursed him over and over through my tears; my sister was being burnt alive! Cosentino's own flesh and blood he was killing! He threw me into the bathroom and barricaded the door._

"_I'm gonna get your mother first, would you like to say bye to her?" I could then hear my mother screaming as Cosentino laughed. In a desperate attempt I smashed the mirror into pieces with my fists and picked up a shard. When he came back to get me stabbed him in the arm but what he did to me was far more lethal. He grabbed the back of my hair and threw me down on the floor on top of all the broken pieces, cutting my chest all over. I could then feel water being poured all over the back of my body, and it was until Cosentino flipped me over and poured the liquid on my chest that it wasn't water but alcohol. I screamed in pain when it entered the gashes of my wounds, but it wouldn't hurt nearly as much as what would come next. When he was finished dousing me in alcohol he dragged me out of the bathroom and grabbed a lantern._

"_Perhaps you'll learn your place in the afterlife Bonaventure DeMarco." Then he threw the lantern at me and left. The flames engulfed my flesh but somehow I managed to get up and run out before the house started collapsing. That's when Vincenzo came in my life and found me._

"My mother remarried after my father died. My stepfather was a drunk and one day I stood up to him…trying to protect my mother. I told him we were going to leave but he had other plans…he decided to torch the house and everyone in it." I viciously sketched as I said this. Christine was quiet as ever.

"I'm so sorry." She barely whispered.

"It's not your fault." I exhaled. The drawing was almost done.

"My father died from illness when I was little as well…that's how I ended up living at the opera house."

I took notice in Christine's confession. She didn't seem one to share personal matters with just anyone, but neither was I.

"Birds of a feather." I observed.

"What?"

"Birds of a feather flock together…never heard of it?" she shook her head. "It means people who have things in common tend to naturally come together."

"I agree." She smiled.

I finished the rough sketch of the city and handed it to her, "Here's your drawing."

"You didn't initial it." She pointed out.

"Should I?"

"Well yes!" I quickly wrote my initials on the corner. "I have to give you something now."

"What? No, please I don't want anything from you Christine."

"It's only fair."

"Fine. I do have a favor to ask…I guess-"

"What is it?"

"My presentation for the Fine Arts Academy is tomorrow. Would you be willing to-"

"Yes! I was planning on going anyways." She interjected.

"You were?"

"Yes, I wanted to watch all of the auditions. Raoul's going to be there too."

"Now that you mention him I think we should be heading back, I need to him about something."

"About what?"

"I sent him a copy of my composition when I applied for a slot. I want to look it over before I present it tomorrow."

We left the church and walked to where the carriage was waiting for us. When we got back to the Vicomte's house he wasn't there, nor had he returned all night. I decided to pack everything for tomorrow morning since. Christine entered my room before just as I was getting ready for bed.

"I…I need your advice on something." She sat on the foot of my bed.

"What is that?"

"Raoul…do you think I should stay with him here or move back into the opera house?"

I wasn't quite sure why she was asking me this. "He is your fiancé is he not?"

"Yes but-"

"This is your first time living with him isn't it?" she nodded. "Do you like living at the opera house?"

"Well…yes."

"Then you should live there. You're not married to the Vicomte yet…you'll have the rest of your life to live with him." I wasn't sure if that was exactly what she wanted to hear but it was true. Even though she was promised to him she didn't seem so attached to him, but then again I knew something had been bothering her since I first met her.

"You know that you can call him Raoul…"

"It's strange…if you're coming with me tomorrow then I suggest you retire to your room, it's late."

She bid goodnight and left me alone with my thoughts. The past four days with Christine were so peaceful but odd. I never spent so much time with anyone before, and not only that but she made me _feel _different. When I was with Christine I wanted to compose myself and satisfy my need of entertainment along with hers…was this what it felt like to be a regular person?

Christine woke me up the following morning saying we were running a bit late. She helped take my things into the carriage. The Vicomte hadn't come home at all last night or this morning. He was still at the Opera Populaire because he had once mentioned that he had to be there to review the presentations. Once Christine and I got to the theatre we made way into the auditorium. The chandelier was no longer there, and half of the ground seats were removed. There was a piano set on the stage along with many chairs and occupants that filled them.

"Students please sign your name on the sign in sheet and take a seat on the stage left." One of people in charge called out.

"Nervous?" Christine asked.

"I…I don't really know." Then from nowhere the Vicomte walked up to us.

"Signore Trentacosta! I already signed you in." he smiled.

"You can just call me Lorenzo sir Vicomte." I was getting rather annoyed with him calling me Signore…

"Lorenzo…" his smile grew bigger. "Well just place your bags somewhere in an empty seat in the audience I suppose…all the students left their things in the reception room so-"

"Raoul I can put his things in my room, I think his things will be safer there." Christine politely suggested.

"That works. My dear are you sure you wish to stay here? You can go home and rest you know."

"Raoul this _is_ my home."

Raoul's brow furrowed upset when she said this. "Christine we shall discuss this after the presentations."

"Vicomte…I had wondered if you have my compositions I sent you…from when I applied here?"

"They should be in my office. You don't have your music?"

"No…it was misplaced." I muttered.

"Very well, I'll go check. Take a seat. We're about to begin soon." he gave Christine a kiss and left.

After following Christine to the ballet dormitories and leaving my stuff in her room he went back to the auditorium for the presentations. The students all sat in the chairs set on the stage left, and their sponsors sat in the audience seats of the theatre. On stage right there was a piano and eight chairs for the people in charge. Four chairs to a table and each table was stacked with papers. All the students seemed no older than mid twenties, most of them were men.

""Students please be seated within five minutes! We are about to call names and presentations will start!"

"Nervous now?" Christine asked again.

"A little." I admitted.

She pulled me to the side of the stage away from everyone. "What exactly are you doing for your presentation?"

"I have to perform my composition."

"Lorenzo…your left arm is in a sling."

"I can play it." Though I left my arm in the sling for the past four days, it wasn't broken. Playing the piano wouldn't be too hard.

Christine raised her eyebrows at me. "Your arm is broken."

"I've been through a lot worse pain before. I just need the Vicomte-"

"Raoul."

"…I just need _Raoul _to bring my compositions!" I was growing a sick feeling in my gut. I never played my music for anyone in ten years, was I even good?

"Lorenzo close your eyes."

This took me off guard. "What?"

"Just close your eyes. You're practically shaking."

I listened to her and closed eyes.

"Now breathe in slowly until I tell you to stop. Breathe in through your nose and your mouth."

I began to inhale until I couldn't anymore and coughed.

"I didn't tell you to stop."

"How do you suppose I continue inhaling for the rest of my life then?" was she joking around? I had to present in a matter of moments!

"It has nothing to do with how much you can breathe in, you're inhaling too fast. Relax. Close your eyes and do it again but this time breath in more slowly."

I followed her instructions and this time paced my breathing.

"My voice teacher taught me that." She said as I exhaled. "Do you feel better?"

"I do actually."

"He told me it helps you concentrate on your breathing instead of other things…I use it whenever I have too much on my mind."

"It definitely helped. You're teacher's very smart."

"Yes, he is."

Christine and I walked out onto the stage. She told me good luck before sitting down in the audience along with the sponsors and a bunch of other young looking people. I assumed they all worked at the theatre and were here to watch the first day of auditions as well for I could see Meg Giry in audience too. I took a seat next to man with untidy blonde hair.

"Ladies and gentlemen it my honor to introduce to you the teachers and staff of the Fine Arts Academy…" a short man with balding grey hair announced as he stood out of his seat. "I am Monsieur Andre, the manager of the Opera Populaire, and this is; Monsieur Gervais, Monsieur Severin, Monsieur Clement, Monsieur Toussaint, Monsieur Leonce, and Madame Giry."

Everyone applauded as each name was called and the staff member stood up to bow.

"Ahh! And this is the Opera Populaire's patron; the Vicomte DeChangey!" Andre said as the Vicomte took his seat at one of the tables. "Now Monsieur Severin would you like to start?"

A tall man with spectacles and a top hat began to speak. "I am Monsiuer Severin, the director of this organization. Even though there are more days to audition I am to tell you that you all have decided to come today and present to us. You are only allowed to present once. If you are not cast a vote then that is the end of the journey for you…"

I looked at Raoul who met eye contact with me, he shook his head and it appeared that he was mouthing the words 'I couldn't find it'. Damn it all to hell. He was the one who signed me in and now I didn't have my music…great.

"The first name on the list to present…" Madame Giry spoke, "Is Edwin Thornton."

The man I sat next to with untidy blonde hair stood up and made his way to the center of the stage.

"Monsieur Edwin Thornton, you are a piano player and dancer from America?" Monsieur Toussaint raised his eyebrows at him. Monsieur Toussaint had red hair and carried a snobbish tone in his speech.

"Yes sir." His accent was definitely American.

"Many people can play the piano; let's see why you're any better than the rest. What piece will you be performing?" Monsieur Toussaint inquired.

"La Campanella by Frank Liszt, Monsieur Toussaint." Edwin Thornton answered.

This caused a lot of intrigue amongst the staff and students, those who knew this piece also knew it was absolutely one of the hardest songs to perform. I heard it before, and even I knew I couldn't play it. I was a composer, not a skilled pianist.

"You may begin." Monsieur Toussaint sneered.

Edwin Thornton took a seat at the piano and began to play. Within five minutes everyone was well aware of his talent. He played the song perfectly, and when he was done was then asked to perform a ballet routine for Madame Giry to evaluate.

"Thank you Monsieur Thornton. You may sit down."

Everyone clapped, myself included. Even his dance was flawless. There were almost around thirty or so students that had come in today. Most of the students were either dancers or played an instrument to an extreme level. There were a couple composers and even less singers. Everyone had done their presentation, and now I knew I was next.

"Monsieur Lorenzo Trentacosta...or rather Signore Trentacosta?" Monsieur Toussaint asked as he noticed my Italian name.

"Either is fine." I replied as I made my way to the center of the stage.

Monsieur Toussaint lifted a piece of paper from the table reading it closely, "You are a composer from Venice?"

"Yes."

"Where is your music?" he posed.

"The fault is mine Monsieur Toussaint-" The Vicomte addressed, "I misplaced it, however Lorenzo could perhaps play it…? How is your arm?" Raoul asked.

"I can play it. My arm is no distraction." I answered.

"Does not matter; you have no proof that the composition is yours, and being sponsored by the Vicomte himself won't get you out of that. Are you a pianist?" Monsieur Toussaint inquired.

"No-"

"Do you dance?"

"No, Monsieur-"

"Then you appear to have wasted your time Monsieur Lorenzo-"

"I can sing." I disliked Monsieur Toussaint on a very severe level. He had tried to find excuses to not permit many students from auditioning.

"Can you now?" he scorned, "You have no music to sing or accompaniment-"

"I can play piano for him." Edwin Thornton stood up and walked to the center of the stage. "Surely you must have some sheet music around here that Lorenzo could sing."

I was somewhat taken back by this man's kindness because I didn't even know him.

"No, we don't. Everything was scattered in the mess of all the fire." Monsieur Severin answered apoplectically.

"This presentation has then no purpose being-"

"Actually…" Madame Giry interrupted Monsieur Toussaint, "We do have sheet music. Meg, go to the dressing room, there is a box on the floor by the door could you please bring it here?"

Meg Giry nodded and got up from the audience and ran to the stage to retrieve the box. I looked at Christine whose surprised expression I didn't miss. I never told her I could sing, or even put on the application that I could. My name in Venice was Sirena di Morte for a reason; I lured people in with the sound of my voice. The way I looked at it was I didn't want to utilize the bait I used for murder as bait I could use for alluring an audience, something about it just seemed wrong.

Meg came back with the box handing it to Madame Giry.

"This is absurd! He cannot do this! He wasn't even prepared-"

"Put a sock in Toussaint, I wanna hear the kid sing." Monsieur Leonce had spoken for the first time. He was definitely younger than the rest of the staff and couldn't be older than mid-thirties. He had short auburn brown hair and his face was unshaven. This remark made Monsieur Toussaint red in the face to the point it almost matched the color of his hair.

"Where did you find sheet music?" Monsieur Severin asked.

"Does not matter where I found it Monsieur…" Madame Giry walked to be and handed me the sheet music. "We will give you five minutes to look at it, there's only one copy."

"Here let me see it." Edwin asked. He skimmed through the music, "I can remember the chords and melody. You can look at it while you're singing. Do you need to look at the lyrics now?"

"No, I'm fine. You can look it over for the five minutes...you're sure you can remember the music?" I could read music easily, but looking at four pages of music and remembering how to play it on a piano was something else entirely.

"Yes I'm more than positive that I can." He heartily laughed.

"Are you boys ready?" Monsieur Leonce asked after five minutes was up.

"Yes sir." Edwin sat himself at the piano.

Then I started to feel it…that rush of adrenalin rise and begging to cascade through my body.

"What's the title of the song you're going to sing Lorenzo?" Monsieur Leonce continued.

I hadn't even read the title yet. My hands lifted the paper to read. "Music of the Night."

"Very well, you may begin."

Edwin began to play the intro of the song as I took a deep breath to sing the first line of the song.

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**I'm letting YOU decide who should the next chapter's POV should be. Erik or Christine's...cause their both there hearing the song...hehe. hard decision huh? haha**


	12. CH 12: A Flame Brought to Fame

**I am not giving up on this story. This chapter is very short but I just wanted to get something up here. This story is my baby, seriously. I had written it once before five years ago (but not the way I had wanted and it ended up getting deleted due to the fact that the Official Phantom of the Opera website used to have FF Forums but then terminated it along with all of its stories) so I really want to get it right. I have decided that I will update this story leisurely as opposed to my other story(stories) I have/will post(ed) up. **

**If you took the time to read this (and still are reading) then I must thank you. Of all my Phantom ideas and plots; this one is my favorite and most personal. thank you.**

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**CHAPTER 12: A Flame Brought to Fame**

**Christine's POV**

All of the students were talented. As the auditions pressed on I started to ponder if the Opera Populaire could even begin to house more people in their dormitories. Food would also be a problem because the cafeteria here was so small. Lorenzo wouldn't have to worry about food though.

Over the past couple days I learned that Lorenzo had a subtle passion for food. He analyzed every meal we ate together in the city and cooked in Raoul's kitchen after insisting to the maids that he would prepare his own dinner in order to not make them work anymore they already had with all of Raoul's daily errands that never seemed to end. Lorenzo had made ravioli one night and made enough to serve more than two people.

"Italians really do specialize in food." I had said to him that night while he placed the ravioli in front of me.

"As do the French because everything I have ate here so far was exemplary."

I remembered taking the first bite of the ravioli he made. I never had tasted something so delicious.

"Lorenzo this is…amazing." I told him.

"You praise me too much." He stated.

Recalling upon this memory I laughed. I _did _praise Lorenzo a lot, but how could I not? He could compose music, draw, paint, cook, and not to mention the fact that he was so effortlessly captivating.

"When is this over?" a pained voice called from behind me.

"Shut up Cynthia," it was Sherri, Cynthia, and Priscilla sitting in the row behind me and Meg, "I think they're almost done. There's only one more left."

"Thank God." Cynthia replied.

Lorenzo stood up and was called center stage.

"Oh my…who is_ that?"_ Sherri gasped.

"His name is Lorenzo Trentacosta apparently." Priscilla answered.

"Well apparently he is breathtaking." Sherri's interest was nothing short of noticeable, and all of the sudden I felt irritated.

"Oh wow…he _really _is!" Cynthia exclaimed.

"I think you two always pick the most difficult of people." Priscilla stated.

"I don't have any idea what you mean." Sherri scoffed.

"Well you fancy the Phantom, and you Cynthia fancy the Vicom- OW! You stepped on my foot!" Priscilla wailed.

"You _idiot- _can't you see who's sitting in front of us?" Cynthia strained her voice to a harsh whisper…that really didn't constitute as a whisper.

What was happening now?

Raoul couldn't find his copy of Lorenzo's song and now he couldn't perform it? I couldn't help but feel angry with Raoul. He had signed Lorenzo up for today's session without first locating his composition. Even though I didn't know Lorenzo for more than several days I didn't want him to leave. He was the only person I could talk to without the pressure of my engagement, the prima donna status, and Erik. Erik! I was incredibly mad with him as well! He _took _Lorenzo's composition deliberately! I then realized…Erik was probably here. If that wasn't enough to drain the blood from my face then what I heard next had finished the job.

"I can sing." Lorenzo declared.

Arrangements were soon made for everyone to prepare to listen to Lorenzo sing. Madame Giry called upon Meg to go to the dressing room to fetch a box that contained some sheet music in it.

I noticed that Monsieur Leonce, one of the teachers of the Academy, had not spoken the entire time up until now with Lorenzo's introduction. Monsieur Leonce was the youngest of the teachers. He had brownish-auburn hair and a bit of scruff about his face but looked well kept.

When Meg returned with the sheet music Monsieur Leonce gave Lorenzo and Edwin Thornton, the tall American dancer and pianist with untidy blonde hair, five minutes to look over whatever sheet music that was given to them.

I was nervous for Lorenzo. The entire ensemble that was already employed by the Opera Populaire and seated in the audience chairs, me included, knew that learning a song in five minutes was impossible. To make the odds turn more against Lorenzo, there was only one copy of sheet music, and if Edwin Thornton couldn't remember the music or Lorenzo forgot the lyrics and was out of tune; the audition would be a disaster.

"What's the title of the song you're going to sing Lorenzo?" Monsieur Leonce asked.

"Music of the Night."

I couldn't breathe. How on earth did Madame Giry get her hands on that music? Lorenzo could not sing this song. I knew Erik was here watching. Where else would he be? I couldn't begin to imagine how Erik would react to Lorenzo singing a song that we shared together…and I never thought in my life I would ever hear this song again.

"Very well, you may begin."

Lorenzo walked towards the front of the stage and faced the audience. He looked past and beyond them…something I had done some months ago.

"_Night time sharpens. Heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses…"_

No.

Gasps from the audience and the stage sounded at the sweet and endangering sound of Lorenzo's voice. Lorenzo now held everyone's attention. As he continued to sing I felt tears escape my eyes. This was _his _music. Erik had wrote this song for me, and now everyone could hear it. Never did I think a voice could match up with Erik's but...Lorenzo was not an ordinary person.

"…_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world! Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before! Let your soul take you where you long…to be!"_

His voice boomed through the entire amphitheater like thunder and struck everyone within it. Lorenzo's eyes were closed as his chest rose to perform the next verse.

"…_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation…" _his voice hissed in a way that made me feel…guilty.

"…_Let the dream begin! Let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write…the power of the music of the night!"_

Everyone rose to their feet and started clapping and cheering.

"The song's not done yet!" I screeched.

When I realized what I had just said I looked around me to notice the people close enough to hear were staring at me. Meg gave me a questioning look.

"Are you okay Christine?"

"_You alone can make my song take flight!" _he effortlessly sang over the applauding and the entire room fell silent. _"Help me make the music of the night."_

He bowed his head down slightly but was then tackled by students that rushed towards him. Everyone was cheering again and the entire room was ecstatic.

Monsieur Leonce leapt over the staff's table and walked over towards Lorenzo, "It is my pleasure to announce to all of you that Monsieur Lorenzo Trentacosta will be attending the Fine Arts Academy this year!"

This conducted more cheering. No one had even gotten a direct affirmation that they could keep their slots in the program. Only Lorenzo was granted that luxury.

"I knew it! I knew I made a wise decision!" I was surprised to see Raoul right by Lorenzo's side in a state of excitement.

I noted the uncomfortable expression sprawled about Lorenzo's face. Lorenzo looked up into the audience and our eyes locked. He gave a small crooked smile and I returned one back.

"I should go." I said to Meg.

I went back to my room in the ballet dormitories and lay down upon my bed.

So many thoughts filled my head that it had begun to hurt.

There were three things I was absolutely certain about though;

Lorenzo was not an ordinary man.

Lorenzo was someone who would make things change drastically here.

Finally,

Lorenzo would stay,

And live in the Opera Populaire along with the rest of the students, Me, and the Phantom of the Opera.


End file.
